


Things Lost, Things Gained

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Loss, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, soft, they're both a little confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24439090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: This starts in the hospital, but it doesn't end there.Or: Accidentally (?) putting your crush (?) in the hospital probably isn't the best way to start a relationship, but one can make it work...maybe. There might be different problems in the way.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Comments: 95
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters aren't all this short but it just didn't make sense cutting the scenes off differently so uh...here's an appetizer, I guess? 
> 
> I swear this also gets nicer...probably.

"Not trying to drive me insane today?", Gerry mumbled, when he felt the familiar buzzing headache that accompanied Michael’s arrival. 

It actually hadn’t tried anything in a while. Michael had tried to get Gerry to lose it for months, but hadn’t had a whole lot of success in doing so. Gerry didn’t particularly know why that was, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that questioning his sanity just wasn’t something that really occurred to him after a lifetime of dealing with the shit that made people do so. Even when Michael finally successfully tricked him into opening the door, Gerry had noticed too quickly and just walked straight out of the door he was still holding open. Gerry couldn’t tell if Michael had or hadn’t been amused by that.

Vivid nightmares where he couldn't really tell whether he was asleep or awake were nothing new to Gerry. Things not being quite right was the kind of sense that saved his ass on a daily basis. It just didn't quite work, even when he was in the sleep deprived state where he got somewhat delusional. He opened the stupid door in that state, but that buzzing, heavy headache, the telltale sign of the Spiral, made it through the sleepy haze and Gerry's instincts kicked in. He was apparently simply too used to this kind of bullshit. 

Gerry tried to get rid of it, but stabbing didn’t work. It just dissolved around the knife and reformed looking extremely amused and slightly inconvenienced at the same time. Gerry didn’t attempt anything after. Beings of the Spiral were quite literally hard to grasp. He was sure that something would probably work, but it wasn’t like it bothered him enough for him to think about what that might be. Gerry was still busy with his Leitner hunts. And maybe Gerry found Michael kind of amusing. 

Michael was clearly trying, getting more and more creative with its approaches. While Gerry couldn't exactly read it very well - especially because looking at it for too long made the headache unbearable and linger for the rest of the fucking day - it seemed to be equally as frustrated as it was fascinated by Gerry's nonchalance. The amusement in its nightmarish voice seemed more pronounced, tinged by a curiosity Gerry knew too well himself. In short, he was fairly sure Michael was bored and enjoying the challenge, to an extent.

But Michael hadn't really tried anything the last couple times it appeared. Which put Gerry a bit on edge. He was trying to figure out what it was playing at now, but it turned out to be difficult. Michael just appeared and hung around now, really. It kept coming back with seemingly no intention to eat Gerry. Naturally Gerry didn't trust that at all. 

Michael only shrugged when Gerry asked it about that, and it looked like it itself wasn't quite sure what it was doing. It seemed to just randomly appear and hang around, being a minor nuisance by making Gerry's things disappear or warp them out of shape, giving Gerry a headache, but never more. Gerry had somewhat gotten used to it. It reminded Gerry a bit of the stray cat that would often show up when Gerry went out of the archive for a smoke. It would always bite at his boots and meow until he finally bent down to scratch its ear, give it some kind of attention. It was somewhat endearing, really, and while he didn’t exactly know what Michael wanted, he felt the same about its behaviour. Maybe Gerry was losing his mind after all.

Michael took so long to answer Gerry had expected it to just stay silent. He jumped when it spoke, "Possibly." It shrugged and its voice pierced Gerry's ears painfully, worse than usual, even more than when Michael had been trying to get to him. The headache got suffocating, a dull ache suddenly magnified, overbearing.

Gerry hissed and held his head, pressing his fingers against his temples. This can’t be good. He glanced in Michael’s direction, expecting it to be getting closer, to betray anything about whatever the fuck it was doing. It just made his head throb.

“Are you skipping the driving insane part and going for the physical torture now?”, Gerry grit out, getting up, hand wandering to his knife. He cursed himself for letting his guard down this much because now the room was tipping and his vision swimming, and if Michael was already hard to focus on normally, now he could barely grasp its vague shape. It didn’t look any closer than it had a moment before, but Gerry couldn’t trust his senses around Michael, of course. This would probably be his end and it was due to his own stupidity.

“Gerry?” The voice nearly made him topple over, the pressure in his skull getting worse with every syllable and Gerry gasped, grasping the back of the chair with the hand that wasn’t clutching his knife.

  
  


Michael wasn’t doing anything. It didn’t exactly know why it kept bothering Gerry, but it had come to accept that it did not particularly want to eat him. Maybe it never had, it didn’t know. But Gerry was much better to pass the time with while still having his wits about. The utterly nonplussed reactions Michael got, the occasional mild annoyance, were refreshing and exciting and it was always curious to see what Gerry might do next. It hadn’t really thought about hurting him, though it assumed it wouldn’t particularly care if it did, either. That’s how it usually went.

It was wrong. It didn’t like seeing Gerry like this at all. And it wanted to make it stop, which was nonsense. Michael wasn’t in the business to stop pain. But Gerry was breathing hard and strangely pale, eyes looking at it, but clearly unable to focus, a mixture of pain and panic clear in them. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the chair and he was leaning more and more of his weight against it, his legs wobbly. Michael had to make it stop, it decided, because it was hurting it to watch and stopping its own pain was, indeed, something it did. 

It took a step towards Gerry, but Gerry’s face scrunched up even further in pain, and the knife came up. Michael could easily take care of that, considering Gerry’s unsteady hand. But it realised that it wouldn’t know what to do after. It didn’t know what was wrong, which was an odd feeling, because something was being more wrong than it and it didn’t like that. Worse, its own wrongness seemed to make the non-Michael-related wrongness worse, as every time it spoke up Gerry seemed to be in more pain. 

Michael had to accept that it needed to find somebody to help Gerry if it wanted it to stop. It ignored the fact that simply leaving would probably stop the pain of seeing Gerry like that. Part of it knew that wasn’t really true. It still saw him when it stepped into its hallways. Something was wrong with it. Something that made it make a door to the only other person still in the archive. Every part of its being recoiled at the mere thought, but it forced itself to step out and face the Archivist.

“Michael.”, Gertrude said, and hearing that voice only fed into Michael’s confusion, its panic, old memories that weren’t its own, but were, the tear that never quite mend because it was wrong, it wasn’t meant to be this way, it wasn’t meant to be at all.

“Gerry. Help him,” it hissed, and it saw her, and it felt rage, white-hot, and so many more things, things it didn’t know how to name, things that weren’t its own, that never should have bubbled inside of itself. 

She raised an eyebrow, rest of the face unmoving, cold, familiar, and it wanted to scream, not to hurt her, primarily, but because it was too much, whatever it was inside itself. There was a thud, though, from the next room, from where Gerry was, and they both froze for a second. Michael disappeared in its hallway again as Gertrude walked to her office door.

  
  


*

Michael was watching the ambulance drive away. It wasn’t even bothered by the fact that the Archivist was standing right there, too close. It wasn’t much of a concern right now.

She spoke up, "I advice you not to follow. To help Gerard they should be in their right mind."

Michael hated her because she was telling the truth and it hated the truth. Also because it desperately wanted to stay with Gerry. His eyes had been closed when it got back to the room it had found Gerry in minutes ago. He had been sprawled on the floor, unmoving, save for the rise and fall of his chest. His face was still contorted in pain. Had Michael done something without noticing? Sometimes it didn't have much control over itself. But it couldn't remember anything earlier. It couldn't remember something like this ever happening before. 

Why was it hurting? Vaguely, Michael remembered guilt. Was that it? Michael shouldn’t  _ feel  _ guilt. Michael shouldn’t feel many of the things it seemed to be struggling with. It hated it. It hurt. It made things difficult because it got in the way. How did humans manage? Its face pulled into a grimace as it disappeared behind the yellow door. The archivist had already gone inside again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm excited I finished writing this and editing it into sounding suspiciously like mostly correct (?) English, I am NOT excited about the last editing round because a) this turned out much longer than intended (as always when I set out to write 'something a little longer') and b) I'm going through one of my illiterate phases, which is just inconvenient when you're trying to make sense of your own writing.
> 
> Alas, I do think (?) I shouldn't take too long to get it all out. It's not THAT long, I don't think (Yes, I've been avoiding checking). If I do take too long, feel free to gently poke me on tumblr (@hypnoshatesme), because I really shouldn't be too busy to get this done if I spend most of my day on there.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael went to see Gerry after what it assumed to be enough time to help him, but Gerry wasn’t awake. He was alive, but out cold, machines connected to him beeping wrong, for a moment, when Michael entered the room through its door. It focused on not bothering them, and they went back to normal. It wasn’t sure whether it should approach Gerry or not. He looked wrong. What if he started hurting again? Was he even able to hurt right now? Michael ended up deciding against it and left again.

*

The next time Michael came to find Gerry - why did it keep doing that in the first place? It should just leave him be - he was awake. His nose was bandaged - had been before, too, Michael remembered - and he was sitting up in bed, staring ahead.

"Michael," he said when he noticed the figure standing close to his bed, felt the slight buzz in his head. It didn’t hurt, but Gerry didn’t know if that was the painkillers or simply how things were now.

Michael stepped closer after a moment of hesitation, watching him warily. Gerry wondered what it might be thinking. Its expression looked uncomfortable; Gerry couldn't quite place it. An odd combination of worry, awe and curiosity, maybe. Looking at it directly, while not as bad as it had been, still wasn't the most pleasant experience so he stopped trying to interpret its face.

"Is this...okay?", it asked, to Gerry's surprise. 

Gerry pointed at the chair next to the bed, "Sure. Sit."

It did, "Are you still...hurting?"

Gerry considered. He was sore, and there was a lingering smell of blood in his nostrils, but he mostly felt numb. "Too doped up”

Michael wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but Gerry didn’t look like he was in pain, so it was satisfied. Somewhat. “Are you going to stay here?,” it asked.

"I'll probably be stuck here for a couple days, eating awful hospital food," Gerry sighed. "But then I can go home."

Michael nodded, unsure what it should say. It wanted to ask what happened, if it would happen again. What it had done. But those were all too uncomfortably genuine questions right now, when it wasn’t sure whether it might make Gerry hurt again if it lost its grasp on itself. So it just stared at Gerry in silence. He was still pale, and he looked tired, more so than usual. His voice sounded a little rough, too.

Gerry mumbled, "I had a brain tumour. You were fucking with it."

"I was?", Michael cocked its head to the side, too far. Gerry looked away.

"Well, maybe not on purpose, but yeah, I assume so…"

"Oh," It sounded somewhat uncertain, apologetic even. Gerry felt bad for it. 

He tried for a reassuring tone, "Don't worry. I...They said it should have been found earlier. That, uh...I was lucky to have such a reaction before it grew or...or spread.", he cleared his throat, "So...I guess I should thank you.”, he sighed, “For calling Gertrude, too. She stopped by earlier and told me you got her so...thanks. I know you hate her."

Michael didn’t like being thanked so earnestly. At least it was fairly sure that’s what was making it more difficult to keep its shape as it answered, “When I got closer, it got worse. She was the only one around.” Its face was a grimace. It didn’t like this conversation at all.

They fell into silence for a moment and Michael, who disliked the white of the hospital room, tried some other, more exciting colours out. Gerry squinted when it turned the walls into a particularly eye-melting shade of orange, nonsensical purple patterns snaking up the walls and onto the ceiling. 

When he spoke, it wasn’t to tell Michael to stop, though. Instead, Gerry asked something he had been wondering about for a while, “Why do you hate her?”

Michael froze and the room was white again. It looked at Gerry, confused. Gerry sometimes would initiate conversation with it, and sometimes he definitely tried to find out more about it through them, but he never had asked such a straightforward question.

“You don’t have to tell me. But I asked her, once, and she deflected the question at a rather alarming rate, so I just assume that means you have a legitimate reason.” Gerry shrugged.

“The Archivist never tells the truth,” it chuckled, trying to keep its anger within.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, “That’s quite something to hear from the Throat of Lies. So I can’t trust either of you?”

Michael’s grin was too wide for its face. “That would be for the best.”

Gerry sighed, resigning himself to not getting an answer to his question. Not that he ever got a straight answer out of Michael. Or of Gertrude. He guessed they really were quite similar, in that sense. Though Michael’s convoluted answering was somehow less disconcerting than Gertrude’s cleary calculated arrangement of half-truths. Gerry was more inclined to believe he could find some truth in Michael’s words than in Gertrude’s. 

There was a heavy silence stretching on between them. It was Michael who broke it, "She made me into what I am."

Gerry had not expected Michael to answer his question after he deflected it first, so he took a moment to understand what Michael was saying. He looked at it, surprised. It looked uncharacteristically blank as it continued.

"She sent her assistant, Michael Shelley, into the hallway with a map. During the Great Twisting," it mumbled on, eyes fixed ahead, though the shapes and colours that usually were inside its eyes seemed to be oozing out of it, hovering in the air before dissolving.

"The Distortion's ritual?", Gerry asked. He hadn’t found much on it but the name. Gertrude had simply said it had been taken care of.

"Yes," Michael hissed and Gerry flinched at the intensity of the anger it put into just that word. "He found the centre, the core of the hallways, and unravelled. So did I. And we became. I  _ am _ . I should have never been." Michael’s hair and eyes were moving more frantically now, but the rest of him was still, forcibly so. It knew that if it let itself go it would make the machines beep weirdly again. Maybe it’d make Gerry hurt again. Something akin to panic filled it. "I should go," it said, slow so it wouldn't accidentally let any of the emotions it could taste on its tongue outside. 

Gerry was still trying to process what he had just heard. He nodded slowly, "I'm sorry I asked.” He looked at Michael again. “But...thanks for answering," he whispered but Michael was already stepping through a yellow door that hadn't been there a moment ago.

*

  
  


The next time Michael showed up at the hospital Gerry was eyeing his breakfast with contempt. He had been hungry until he saw it. Now he was seriously weighing his options of going hungry or trying to eat, even if just to make time pass quicker. More than hungry he was bored and when he heard the squeaking door opening he felt a wave of relief rush over him. A welcome distraction. 

"Michael."

It sat down in the chair next to his bed, "Gerry."

"What's that?", Gerry asked, nodding at the paper bag in its hand. At least that's what it looked like, it was hard to tell through the fingers wrapped around it one too many times.

"You said you didn't like the food," Michael said matter-of-factly. Or that’s the closest it came to it, at least. There was still a sliver of amusement in its voice.

Gerry raised an eyebrow. "Uh...you brought me food?"

Michael shrugged, holding out the bag. Gerry took it and eyed it suspiciously.

"I got it from a bakery so it should be fine. It wasn't in the hallway too long."

Gerry couldn't even think about the implications in that sentence as he tentatively opened the bag and peeked inside. It was, indeed, food. For him. He looked at Michael - and it didn't even hurt too bad, just a dull buzzing. So it hadn’t all been painkillers - confused. He hadn't even managed to convince Gertrude to bring him something to read and Michael just showed up with food after he mentioned, off-handedly, that he disliked the one in the hospital. 

Gerry wasn't exactly sure what to do with this. People were rarely nice just to be nice. Michael wasn't people, though. Which made Gerry even more suspicious, despite part of him wanting to lean into the surprised warmth he had felt at first.

Michael was looking confused now. "Do you not like it?"

"I do, I'm just...trying to figure out why you did this."

Michael's face was definitely contorting into a inhuman caricature of confusion, "You said you disliked the food here."

"Yes but...people usually don't just- I mean I think at least? I...at least I never witnessed-," The colour was rising into Gerry’s at the realisation that he wasn’t even certain if his distrust was warranted. Maybe this was usual conduct. Maybe he was the one being weird. That weird excited warm feeling was still bubbling in his stomach as he looked at the bag. He was being rude, wasn't he?

"I...nevermind. Sorry. I mean...thank you.” Gerry bit his lip and took a breather, trying to calm the flush in his cheeks. "Did you choose them for the aesthetic?," he decided to try, finding it a little difficult to find his teasing tone when he was still struggling with pushing down the awe he felt. He was definitely overreacting. It was just some cinnamon rolls. It wasn't like this was the first time he received a gift either. Or was it? Gerry couldn't remember, really. 

Michael nodded, "Some other shapes also didn't look too boring, but I liked those."

Gerry smiled despite himself, "I bet you did." He took one of the rolls out, "Do you want some?” He stopped himself, “Actually...I don't think I’ve ever seen you eat. Can you eat?"

Michael hummed, as if thinking about the question. "I ate your pen, once."

Gerry furrowed his brows. He had a vague memory of that, but had assumed it just wasn’t real, "Oh, so I wasn't seeing things, then.” He shook his head. “Well, but I meant normal food. Is it just going to fall into the hallway or something?"

Michael shrugged. "It might. Does it taste good?"

Gerry nodded, biting into the cinnamon roll.

"Did I choose well, then?", Michael looked excited at the prospect of that being the case.

Gerry nodded again. He held out a bit of it to Michael. Michael took it after a moment and popped it into its mouth. Gerry watched as its features pulled into...something. Gerry couldn’t quite tell if it liked it or not from those alone.

Michael licked its lips, "It is good."

Gerry finished the rest himself, glad that he had something to make his stomach stop grumbling. Michael was changing the room again, clearly bored with being forced to look at it in its original form. Gerry couldn’t blame it. He, too, hated it. It was a bore to look at and he didn’t have anything else to do in his waking hours, which, thankfully, still were few and far between. 

An idea started forming in his head as he watched the walls change from one neon colour to the next, surprised that it didn’t make his head hurt any more than what was probably a normal reaction to colours so bright. 

It was making him slightly dizzy, though, the constant changing, so he decided to look at Michael again, "Michael? If you, uh...if you stop by here again tomorrow or something could you bring me a book or two?"

Michael got up. "I can get you those now."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

Michael raised an eyebrow, too high. It disappeared in its ever-moving curls. "My doors go wherever I want them to. It doesn't make a difference. What books do you want?"

"Just whichever. There are more than enough in my apartment. It...it gets horribly boring here when I'm awake," Gerry sighed, leaning back into his pillow.

"Am I boring?”, Michael sounded somewhat affronted.

Gerry huffed out a laugh, "Anything but, but you’re not here all the time."

"I could be."

Gerry raised an eyebrow himself. It was hard to tell if Michael was joking or not. It always sounded amused. Gerry decided to go with it being a joke, in this case. "I don’t think the nurses would appreciate that,” he grinned, “Or maybe they would. They’ve been looking very worried about the severe lack of visitors for ‘somebody so young’.”

Michael shrugged and stepped through its door. It didnt know why it wanted to help Gerry, to be nice to him. It's not something it should want. But something about Gerry’s conflicted reaction to the food had been interesting. It had been fascinating watching him trying to reconcile suspicion with gratitude and maybe more things. Michael couldn't read Gerry that well. That was probably one of the reasons that kept drawing it back. 

It picked the books in Gerry’s bedroom because those were probably the ones he was reading or wanted to read. When it appeared at the hospital again, Gerry looked surprised. But when Michael handed him the books, he couldn't quite stop himself from smiling. Michael decided that it liked that a lot, too. If this was another effect of doing things for Gerry, it definitely wanted to continue doing so.

"Thank yout,” Gerry said, looking up at Michael and directing that smile towards it. It felt somewhat struck by it. Or maybe it was the damned ‘thank you’ again.

It shook the feeling off and sat down again. Gerry didn’t look like he was in pain when he looked at it anymore, which was also something Michael liked a surprising amount. It probably shouldn’t.

"Does it not hurt? To look so...directly,” it asked.

Gerry shrugged. "Well...a little? It's more of a slight discomfort now. Nothing too bad."

Michael wasn't sure what to think of that. It didn't like feeling seen, usually. And Gerry had the scrutinizing gaze of somebody aligned with the eye, which made it worse. Part of Michael was reminded of Gertrude. But that was wrong, of course. Gerry’s gaze was intense and maybe curious, but not calculating or sheming. It made Michael tingle, but not necessarily in a bad way. In a new way. 

Michael liked having those warm eyes fixed on it, liked being able to see Gerry’s face so clearly without it being distorted in pain. Oh, that probably wasn't good. But Gerry’s face looked nice like this, despite still not looking quite right. Michael suddenly realised that Gerry's face - Gerry as a whole - had always looked good to it. That was another reason it kept coming back.

"You alright? You look...tense?," Gerry asked because it did, as far as he could tell, tense up suddenly. He was surprised at the worry in his own voice.

"I...your eyes are…,"  _ Intense _ , "Pretty." That's not what Michael had wanted to say at all and it looked shocked for a moment before looking away, embarrassed. Gerry assumed the highlighter pink colour its face had taken on meant it was blushing, and now Gerry was shocked.

"Oh, uh...thanks? I..sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Michael simply nodded, trying to ignore the weird fluttery feeling it was getting somewhere within itself. It needed to calm down.

It got up, "I'll leave you to read."

"Okay. Thank you again and, uh...until next time?" Now Gerry was sounding desperate, but he did enjoy its company. He had never liked being stuck in a hospital for too long on his own. There was too much time to just stare at white walls and think. Michael's visits were welcome and he was afraid he fucked it up by gawking at it like some creep. How did Gerry even manage to be a creep to a literal monster?

Michael nodded and maybe it smiled, Gerry couldn't tell, before disappearing through its door. Gerry sighed, burying his face in his hands. 

_ Had Michael just called his eyes pretty? _

*

Michael did not come through its door the next day. It came through the normal, actual door and it was accompanied by a nurse, who apparently was showing it the way. It also looked very human, hair pulled into a messy bun - though Gerry still saw some movement in there from the corner of his eyes, whenever he was looking away - hands maybe big, but definitely still human-sized and shaped. The nurse smiled at Gerry and then at Michael before waving and leaving them alone.

Gerry watched with raised eyebrows as Michael walked over and sat down next to the bed again. On its way it lost a bit of the overly human form, fingers getting long again, eyes back to endless movement and colours.

"What was that about?"

"So they stop worrying about you having no visitors," it said like that was the most obvious answer in this situation.

Gerry sighed and rubbed the back of his head, "But...why did you go out of your way to change that?"

It hesitated, then shrugged. Michael didn’t know. It didn’t even know it was going to do that before it walked up to the nurse. There had been something in Gerry’s voice when he had mentioned the nurses worrying, something...sad. Michael didn’t like it. It wanted to eliminate it, whatever it was that made Gerry sound like that, so it guessed it just tried to do that.

Gerry sighed again. He didn’t understand what Michael was trying to achieve and he was starting to actually believe that Michael itself didn’t exactly know, either. But he did appreciate the effort. It was nice to have somebody - something - look out for him. Even if it was a little confusing, apparently to both parties. Gerry had to smile at that. Apparently he had social skills comparable to some aspect of the Distortion. He wasn’t even too surprised and chuckled.

Michael didn’t understand what he was chuckling about, but it liked the sound a lot and waited for it to fade before it spoke up, "He told me you'll probably be released soon."

Gerry nodded, “Yeah, they mentioned it. Everything seems to be going fine.” Michael didn’t look convinced, and worry looked really odd on its features. Gerry grinned, “Don’t pull such a face. I cannot wait to finally be able to spend all day in bed, but in my own apartment.”

“It doesn’t have much more colour,” Michael answered and he sounded doubtful about the prospect of Gerry’s apartment being any better than the hospital.

“You insult me,” Gerry chuckled, not quite able to keep up his mock-affront.

Michael watched him attentively, head slightly tilted. Gerry was interesting, with all the things his face and voice showed, sometimes seemingly opposing and overlapping. Michael liked it, and part of it was aware that this wasn’t necessarily special about Gerry, that humans often were layered in their expressions. 

But no other human had features this pretty when they did, or a voice so nice. Michael liked it a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go for A Lot but short chapters so my brain can actually edit this
> 
> (I hate that I ended up with an even number of chapters, though.)


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re leaving already?”, Michael asked, somewhat unbelieving because Gerry’s face still did not look quite right and it wasn’t its doing. It had come through its own door this time, but Gerry was packing his things when it walked into the hospital room.

Gerry nodded, “Yes, everything went down well. I can recover at home, now.”

“I could make a door for you,” it offered. Gerry looked tired.

Gerry halted for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously. He shook his head, slowly. “No, it’s fine. I...I’ve been craving to go outside for a while now.”

Michael didn’t look like he minded that. “Can i walk with you, then?”

Gerry looked at it, trying to read its expression, despite knowing that that never worked. He just couldn’t figure it out. It made no sense. Which, he guessed, was the whole point. It hadn’t tried anything in a long while by now and if it had wanted to harm him, well, it would have had plenty of opportunities lately. Unless it wanted to lull him into a false sense of security before striking. Gerry tried to find anything that might explain its intentions in its face. Unsurprisingly, he failed. Unfortunately, that only intrigued him more.

Gerry shrugged. “If you want, sure.”

  
  


*

  
  


They walked mostly in silence and Michael watched Gerry’s relieved face at being outside again, because it still was a handsome face even when partly swollen. And it looked even better now that it was outside those awful white walls.

"They should change hospital designs," it mumbled, eyes still fixed on Gerry.

Gerry chuckled and it sounded so much lighter now, "I agree. But I think they have to keep it as neutral as possible."

"Do you spend a lot of time in there?"

Gerry took a moment to understand. "In hospitals? More than I'd like, but this was my first longer visit since the burns," he absent-mindedly ran a hand over his scarred arm. Michael watched the motion with great interest, and it both wondered about the feeling of those pretty fingers and of that scarred skin. 

Michael never really considered touch beyond what it sometimes did to drive some people insane, delighting in their confused faces when it didn’t feel like it looked at all. But Michael didn’t want to drive Gerry insane right now, it was pretty sure. It just wanted to touch for touching. Out of curiosity, maybe. It wasn’t sure. It looked away so it could stop thinking about it. 

"Did they hurt?," it asked to distract itself. It could still feel Gerry next to it, so not thinking about Gerry wasn’t working so well.

"Oh yes,” Gerry sighed, “It's...ah, I guess you probably don't get burned the same way people do. But it's bad."

Michael knit its brows and they overlapped. "I think...I think I don't like burns."

"Oh?" Gerry had that cute curiosity in his voice Michael liked as he glanced up at it.

Michael couldn’t not look at him then. "Sometimes memories...mingle. it's not...the same, but I think I- Michael Shelley disliked burns."

Gerry took a moment to consider that. "Oh...I didn't- so...you are separate entities, in a way?"

"No," it said unhelpfully. Gerry waited a moment but it didn’t elaborate.

He couldn’t quite stop himself, though, "Hm...do you look like him?" That had been something Gerry had wondered about more than once.

Michael nodded. "Most times. It's the easiest form to hold since I was...forced into holding one. It's also one that many people trust. They open the door for this face," it said it with venom in its voice, but its face looked nearly smug. 

It gave Gerry whiplash and he looked away and nodded, deciding to drop the topic. He didn’t want to upset Michael, and he didn’t want to think about people opening doors for that face. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Gerry was perfectly fine with that.

  
  


*

  
  


It was the first time Michael entered Gerry’s apartment through the front door, which was thrilling. It looked exactly like it had when Michael had gotten the books, but it just  _ felt _ different. Michael watched as Gerry looked around, relaxing in the familiar surroundings. 

Gerry didn’t love his apartment necessarily, but he always enjoyed the feeling of coming back after having been forced to stay away for a bit. He couldn’t wait to finally lay down in his own bed. He would have probably forgotten Michael was there if it weren’t for the lingering staticy feeling.

"I'll probably head straight to bed after some food...do you, uh...want something, too?" Gerry turned around to face it, still surprised that it didn’t make his head hurt. 

It felt like nothing compared to before. Gerry still wondered if Michael hadn’t been purposefully doing something to make it worse. But then again, that would only beg the question of why it decided to stop. The idea made Gerry uncomfortable. Like it was planning something.

Michael shook its head and Gerry shrugged, taking out his phone to order something. Unsurprisingly, Michael still stuck around. It watched as Gerry put his things back that he had brought from the hospital.

"Did you like the books?," it asked as it watched Gerry shelve the books it had brought him a couple days ago. 

He nodded. "I did.” He turned to look at Michael, eyeing it curiously, “Do you read?” 

He never really considered what it did when it wasn’t hanging around with Gerry or trying to get people into its hallways. Maybe it had hobbies? 

Michael laughed, and it made Gerry’s ears ring. Still no comparison to the piercing pain he was used to from before. "No. I like to twist the words on the pages, though. People react most interestingly."

Gerry had to fight a grin at that. That really shouldn’t sound as cute as it did. "Oh, yes. You did that with statements I was reading once or twice."

Michael nodded and its face pulled into what Gerry assumed was a pout, “You didn’t care.”

“It was dizzying, but well...I just assumed I could get back to it later.”

Michael shook his head, disbelieving. He didn’t understand how Gerry didn’t even sound fazed when he talked about the things Michael did. Usually people who didn’t react much in the moment would at least freak out later when thinking back to the situation, trying to rationalise it. Gerry just seemed to shrug it off and move on.

The doorbell rang and Gerry went to retrieve his food and sat down on the couch with it. Michael fit itself against the armrest on the other side of the couch, body bending in ways it absolutely should not, and watched curiously as Gerry started to eat.

"Do you want to try some?," Gerry decided to ask silently being stared at by unlinking eyes for longer than was comfortable, even for him.

Its eyebrows drew together again, not overlapping, but scrunching up until they looked like anything but certainly not eyebrows. Gerry wondered if it did that on purpose or if its body just worked like that. It seemed like a lot of effort to consciously think about making its hair twist and untwist into spirals at all time. Maybe it was just how its form worked. Should he point out that its eyebrows were off? Or was that the point?

"I don't know," was its unsatisfying answer.

Gerry rolled his eyes and held the pizza out to it, "Well, then find out."

Michael simply stared for a moment, before tentatively taking one slice and eating it whole. It made the same expression it did with the cinnamon roll, so Gerry assumed it liked it. 

“You can finish it, if you want. Not hungry anymore,” he yawned. 

Michael did just that. In one bite, of course. Gerry didn’t bother to look, but he heard it.

"I'll go lay down. Uh...see you around, probably?," he mumbled.

Michael licked its lips, "You're going to be here?"

Gerry nodded. He didn’t know why he was basically inviting Michael to stop by - especially considering Michael did whatever the fuck it wanted - but he didn’t like the idea of no longer seeing it regularly. It wasn’t like he would really be able to do a whole lot in the coming weeks, so he told himself he just really dreaded the boredom. And that was certainly true, so he tried to convince himself that was the only reason. 

Michael nodded and made a door right next to the couch. It waved as it stepped through, and Gerry tried to explain the fluttering in his chest away with tiredness. Maybe he had just developed new symptoms of exhaustion. He got up from the couch and made his way to his bed.

  
  


*

  
  


It came the next day as Gerry was cooking himself some late breakfast. Or maybe lunch. As expected he mostly wanted to sleep and for once he indulged, not having anything to do or any place to be. Most of the times he didn't even dream. It was refreshing. But he did get hungry, so he had to take care of that, still.

"What are you doing?," it asked after a couple minutes passed in silence.

"Cooking."

“Did you cook all day?" Again, Gerry wondered if it was joking.

“Just woke up. Slept all day.” He looked at it, and returned the question, more out of reflex. Though he  _ was _ curious. “What about you?” 

Michael shrugged, "I went to the archive."

"Why?"

It shrugged again. Gerry never really understood Michael’s connection to the archive. Well, now he kind of did, but it still struck him as odd that it kept returning to it despite that being where Gertrude was, who it clearly did not want to see.

He looked at it for a moment, considering, "Do you like it there?"

"Partly." Michael cackled and Gerry sighed. Well, he knew it probably wouldn’t come to a clear answer.

"Actually, I haven't told Gertrude I’m out of the hospital yet," he mused. He had forgotten about that. She hadn’t showed herself after the first day and hadn’t contacted him either, so he couldn’t blame himself for forgetting.

Michael’s face twisted into a grimace. It looked in pain as it started, “You shouldn’t-”

Gerry decided to cut it off, mostly because it was rather unpleasant to see it like that. He could guess what it meant to say, anyways. “Trust her, I know. Still a bit rude, she  _ was _ the one who called the ambulance. I...it’s not like I’ll be able to work anytime soon.” 

And maybe he was seriously considering not going back to working with her. It had been on his mind ever since Michael mentioned what had happened to it. To  _ him _ . It was still odd to think that Michael used to be a person at some point. Well, part of it. 

Gerry felt like he could do more while alive. And, after doing a little more research, it looked like staying alive wasn’t very probable when you worked with Gertrude. 

“Also I might not go back,” he decided to add because Michael’s face still looked distressing. Or distressed. Hard to tell.

Whatever it was, it shifted into something akin to satisfaction at those words. It smiled at Gerry and, somehow, that lifted Gerry’s mood a little, too. He smiled down at the frying pan.

  
  


*

Michael stopped by pretty much on a daily basis in the weeks that followed, and Gerry was glad because he often was in no shape to leave the house, but also not sleeping, so he was stuck trying to distract himself. Which would be fine if reading and drawing didn’t make his head hurt from the strain of trying to pass hours doing those things. 

So having Michael to get his mind off things was a relief. They’d talk - which also sometimes gave Gerry a headache, but he usually tried to remind himself to not bother trying to understand and just enjoy it - or sometimes they’d watch something together. Whatever it was Gerry ended up putting on, it never turned out quite right when he watched it with Michael. It was kind of interesting. 

Often, Michael wouldn’t even say or do much, but just sit with him, change colours and shapes of his furniture and walls and ask for his opinion. Gerry usually hated it and gave his own ideas, that always turned out significantly more muted and dark than Michael’s. It always looked disappointed when it followed through with the suggestions, but it still did, which was somewhat cute. It was fun. 

Another handy thing was the doors. Gerry still wasn’t going to step through them, but it was hard to deny the fresh breeze coming through when Michael made one into some kind of park on a nice, cool day and Gerry was stuck in his stuffy apartment, open window only letting in noise from the street and more warm air. Michael would leave the door open for him, then, and Gerry would just sit in front of it and breathe in the fresh air. 

Michael usually just watched him in silence, expression as unreadable as always. But Gerry thought it looked like it was enjoying itself, for some reason. 

  
  


*

  
  


There were days, though, were Gerry wasn’t really up for anything but sleep. Michael still stopped by, of course. It had looked quite worried the first time that happened. It had already been way past noon when the door in Gerry’s room appeared and it stepped out. Gerry had been about to drift off again, having spent most of the day unconscious and the minutes between drifting in and out of consciousness.

He threw one arm over his eyes to shield them from the brightness that was Michael and mumbled, voice barely audible with sleep, “Sorry Michael, I’m not feeling so good today. I’ll probably just...sleep it off.”

“Do you...need to go back to the hospital?” It sounded alarmed. And amused. It was an odd combination.

Gerry smiled, “No, it’s...it’s fine. Just having a bad day. They warned me it would probably happen.”

“Can I...help?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just...go back to sleep,” he yawned and peeked at it from under his arm, squinting at the bright colours against his tired eyes. “Thanks for the visit, still.”

Michael looked a little hesitant, but it nodded eventually, and stepped through its door again. Gerry was already drifting off to sleep again before the door closed.

*

  
  


Gerry awoke from hunger and thirst. No light was coming in through the curtains, so he assumed he had managed to sleep the day away. He tentatively sat up. His head wasn’t pounding anymore and he sighed in relief, getting off the bed and shuffling into the kitchen. 

He was pouring himself a glass of water when he saw the paper bag on the counter. He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t remember getting anything the day before, and, well, he had certainly not been outside today. Had he asked Michael to get him something? Gerry didn’t remember, at least. He had been close to sleep but not so close as to randomly request food and then forget about it. 

Gerry drowned his water and peeked into the bag. Cinnamon rolls. He smiled and took one out to take a bite. It had definitely been Michael, despite Gerry not commenting on anything food-related this time. Gerry smiled to himself as he stood in his dark kitchen, eating cinnamon rolls and feeling that odd warm feeling spread in his chest again. 

He had to remember to thank it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael does have hobbies, obviously. Interior design.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerry was starting to do work again. He had never really  _ stopped _ , he had kept doing research when he felt up to it. But he hadn’t actually hunted down anything physically, and he was getting restless. So as soon as he started to feel more like himself again - and all of his check-ups had gone fine - he started easing himself back into his old routine. Well, except this time it involved Michael popping up frequently. 

It had never been much of a  _ routine _ anyways.

It never stopped its visits and Gerry honestly didn’t mind. He was getting used to holding somewhat confusing conversations with it, and often it would just hang around silently and just fuck around with stuff, which was fine, too. Gerry liked having it around. His apartment felt strangely empty without the low buzzing sensation.

It started helping him on his hunts. Not actively. It would make a door when Gerry found himself running or stuck, or about to seriously get hurt. Or sometimes just when he was dreading the walk home after already exhausting himself to get the book. It was convenient, but being in the hallway still set Gerry on edge and he usually didn’t stick around for too long. 

Part of him was surprised every time when Michael just let him go. 

“Do you burn them all?”, Michael asked once when it decided to join Gerry in watching the latest Leitner burn after getting him into safety from a rather nasty Flesh monster.

Gerry shook his head as he watched the flames. “No, Desolation ones don’t really care, usually.”

Michael nodded, watching as the light of the flames danced in Gerry’s eyes. It was hypnotising and Michael had to force its eyes away before Gerry noticed it staring. They fell on the rips at the back of his shirt, where the thing had gotten to it before Michael had. “You’re still bleeding.”

It took a moment for Gerry to move his eyes away from the flames. He brought his hand up to touch the wound. Hissing, he quickly pulled it away again. His fingers still came away wet. “I’ll clean it at home.” 

Michael opened a door for him and Gerry took a last glance at the dying flames before stepping through. He still hesitated doing so. It was one thing to walk through the door while he was on the run. When he actually voluntarily made his way through it, part of him still was alarmed, no matter how many times he did it and it went fine. Trust didn’t come easy to him in general, but it was even more complicated when dealing with a being whose whole thing was deceit. 

Michael wasn’t doing a particularly good job at it. All it said was vague, but it hadn’t tricked Gerry into walking through that door to trap him yet. And Gerry was starting to wonder if it ever would. With a startle, Gerry realised that he strongly hoped it wouldn’t. Gerry wanted to trust it, despite himself.

They came out in Gerry’s bathroom, which was where the first aid kit was. Michael knew that by now. It watched as Gerry peeled off his shirt as carefully as he could. It still made him gasp.

“I wanted to avoid you getting hurt. I wasn’t fast enough,” Michael mumbled, staring at the ripped skin. It didn’t look too deep, but it looked messy and painful.

Gerry got out the first aid kit and a towel, “Well, I guess sometimes it’s unavoidable. It’s okay, though. You saved my ass from much worse.” He smiled back at Michael who was still watching him intently, looking somewhat...conflicted? “What’s up?”

Michael knew what it wanted to say, the words burning on its tongue. Literally. Its face pulled into a pained grimace as it tried to put them out, to speak something far too true, “I don’t...like...you hurting.” 

It’s voice frayed at the edges, weirdly soft and pained at the same time. It looked like the words hurt it. Its face flickered a little.

“...I don’t like you hurting, either,” Gerry whispered, too shocked to really think about it before speaking. Not that it wasn’t the truth. He certainly wasn’t liking what he was seeing, and he was fairly sure it wasn’t all because it took some effort to process it.

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

It was Michael who interrupted it because it saw that there was still blood running down Gerry’s back and it hurt to watch. “Can I try to help?”

Gerry blushed slightly, realising he’d just been standing there, frozen. “Uh, I...sure.” he soaked the towel in water and held it out to Michael, “I can’t see that spot anyways, so this might be better,” he chuckled, hoping to break the tension a little.

Michael smiled and it looked a little off, a little too soft, but it took the towel and nodded, stepping closer. Gerry gathered his hair to the uninjured side. Wound treatment wasn’t necessarily among Michael’s skills, but it had watched Gerry stitch himself up more than enough times by now to at least understand how it worked. 

Carefully it started to clean the blood around the wound. Gerry shivered, but didn’t seem to be in pain so it continued. He tensed as it got closer to the actual scratches, so it concentrated to be extra gentle as it cleaned them. Gerry still hissed, and it wanted to apologise, but it was afraid to speak and break its focus, so it simply gave Gerry a moment to catch his breath and gently brushed its fingers against Gerry’s arm.

Gerry nodded, “Thanks. Just...stinging a bit. It’ll be worse with the disinfectant.”

Michael helped with that, too, and despite not understanding how the bandaging worked, it tried to at least make it easier for Gerry. It sure was inconvenient to have a body that had to follow such stiff rules, it decided, as it watched Gerry struggle to reach the gauze with both of his hands behind his back, out of sight. The strain was making the wound open again where it had already started to knit back together. 

Michael could twist Gerry if it wanted, of course. It wasn’t quite sure if it could put him back together right if it did, though, so it just helped by taking the gauze itself and bringing it to Gerry’s other hand. Gerry mumbled a relieved ‘thanks’, and Michael wasn’t even bothered by it. Maybe it even liked it.

  
  


*

  
  


Things were a little different after that night. Both knew, but didn’t address it when hands brushed or they sat just a tad closer than they used to. Not like Michael ever addressed anything directly anyways. And Gerry wasn’t one to try start such a conversation. He wouldn’t even know what to say.

Gerry fell asleep during one of those nights of sitting on the couch, shoulders nearly brushing. His head dropped to the side, coming to rest against Michael’s arm and Michael froze, unsure what to do. Gerry seemed to be more relaxed around it lately, but this still seemed like a leap. Michael knew Gerry hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. Still, it was alarming for him to just pass out like this.

It considered waking him up, but Gerry looked so peaceful, face lax and mouth slightly open. Michael decided to make its arm as comfortable as it could and didn’t move it as it reached out with its other arm to retrieve the blanket Gerry had kicked to the floor earlier. It covered Gerry with it as good as it could. 

Gerry shuffled closer in sleep, and Michael let him, watching as he buried his face in the fabric of Michael’s sweater sleeve. Hours passed, possibly, before Michael couldn’t take it anymore and brought its free hand up to gently run over Gerry’s head, touch featherlight as its fingertips barely touched his hair. 

It waited for a moment, to see if it had been enough to wake Gerry up, but Gerry only shifted closer, ducking his feet under the blanket and rolling up against Michael’s side. He was still fast asleep and Michael dared to continue running its fingers over that beautiful dark hair, watching the subtle movement as its fingers passed over it. It looked a little bit like waves, like when the breeze caught in it, played with it. Michael had often wished it could do that as it watched. 

It was still dark when Gerry awoke and it took him a while to really shake sleep off and understand where he was. He sat up quickly, and Michael let go of him, disappointed. Gerry looked at it, blush high in his face. 

"Sorry...for...falling asleep,” Gerry looked just as shocked as he looked embarrassed. 

Michael shook its head, "it's okay. You seemed like you needed it."  _ It was nice, _ it wanted to say. Instead it said, "I don't mind."

Gerry looked unsure and rubbed his eyes to stall for time. His heart was racing, his face hot. This had been exceptionally stupid. To let his guard down like this. And yet all he wanted to do was curl up against Michael again and sleep a little longer. It had been surprisingly comfortable. He vaguely remembered the feeling of something brushing through his hair. He looked at Michael, suspicious. 

Michael tried very hard not to look hurt by that expression. It made sense, of course. It knew what it was. But it didn't want to hurt Gerry. It wanted him to come close again. It missed the contact. 

Michael looked thoroughly unhappy under Gerry’s gaze and Gerry disliked seeing that. But he didn’t really know what to  _ do _ about it.

"I should go to bed," he finally said, but it only made Michael’s face fall further.

"Okay."

Gerry didn't move. He didn't  _ want _ to go to bed, not really. This had been nice. He shuffled a little closer again and Michael welcomed him in its arms. Gerry stiffened for a moment, holding his breath, expecting something to happen, to go horribly wrong. Michael simply held out, unmoving, so Gerry let out a sigh and relaxed, cuddling up against it again.

"You're surprisingly comfortable for something that looks so sharp," he mumbled, hiding his face in its arm as he felt his cheeks heat up again.

Michael chuckled - or cackled, rather, "Trying my best.” It seemed to consider, its voice hesitant before continuing, “Can...was it okay? To touch your hair?"

So Gerry hadn’t imagined it. He smiled a little. "Sure."

The feeling of something running through his hair returned. Iit didn’t really feel like fingers, but it felt nice and he sighed contently, leaning into the touch. 

"You have very nice hair,” it mumbled, so softly that Gerry wasn’t entirely sure he was being addressed.

"Uh...thanks? I try."

It only hummed - buzzed, rather - in response and Gerry closed his eyes and enjoyed the comfort.

*

  
  


It became something of a habit. When Michael found Gerry at home - or brought him there - its visits would usually end with them cuddling on the couch. Gerry was still wary and avoided somehow ending up in an actual hug that might make it more difficult to put distance between them if needed, but he still enjoyed leaning against it, letting it play with his hair or run its fingers over his shoulder or arm. Michael didn’t seem to mind the scars and Gerry relaxed, slowly, against it. 

Somewhere along the way, Gerry grew comfortable enough to return the touches, fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns on arms and shoulders that did not quite feel right, tracing too long fingers that looked utterly different from how they felt under Gerry’s skin.

“Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“Your fingers...look so much sharper than they are.” He felt a little silly for saying that. Michael was surely aware of that.

“They are sharp. I’m making them soft. I can make them look soft, too, if you want.”

Gerry shook his head. “It’s okay.” He ran his thumb over the pointy end of its thumb, “Thanks for not cutting me, I guess.” He chuckled lightly.

Michael squeezed him against itself for a moment, “I like...when you’re close.” Too genuine. It pulled a face. “You probably wouldn’t if it’d cut you to shreds.”

Gerry nodded, “Mhm, probably not.” He leaned back, resting his head against its chest and squeezing its hand lightly. “I like being close, too,” he whispered as he continued to trace the long fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rly liked this one for some reason...


	5. Chapter 5

Gerry was spacing out in front of the TV. It had been a slow day, with him struggling to really focus on anything. Even when Michael had stopped by, Gerry wasn’t really there, mentally. He had muttered a goodbye when it left after a while of - what had it even done? Gerry couldn’t really remember, but Gerry had eventually given up trying to get anything done.

He had made himself some coffee and settled on couch for the rest of the afternoon, dreading the fact that he’d have to probably work late tomorrow to make up for it. Now that it wasn’t likely he would have had to work into the night before anyways.

When he felt the familiar static, Gerry half-expected to be imagining it. Michael usually didn’t return after it left for the day. But when Gerry looked up from the TV he saw the yellow door close behind it.

He raised an eyebrow. "Michael? Did you, uh...forget something?" It never had anything to forget, really, but Gerry wasn’t sure what else it might want.

It sat down next to him on the couch, but didn’t answer, handing him a paper bag instead.

Gerry blinked at it, confused, “Uh...thanks?”

Michael cocked its head to the side - nearly a passable angle for a human this time, but not quite - looking at Gerry intently. "You seemed...upset. Today."

Gerry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He tried to not let his moods affect those around him too much, usually, but he guessed he hadn’t managed too well today. Or maybe Michael was just getting good at reading him. Which would be a little unfair, considering it was still quite incomprehensible.

"Ah, yes...sorry,” he mumbled, sighing again. “Just...a bad day, I guess.” 

He peeked inside the bag despite already knowing what it was. For whatever reason, the sight of the cinnamon rolls still brought a small smile to his lips. Maybe something to do with how warm they made him feel.

“Thanks,” he said and smiled up at Michael next to him. 

Michael beamed back, glad to see him smile again and Gerry nearly had to laugh at the exaggerated expression. It was easier to read when it got this excited, but it also looked distinctly less human. It had been disconcerting to look at at first, but by now Gerry found it somewhat endearing. 

Instead of laughing, he leaned closer to press his lips to its cheek, just for a short moment. 

Michael looked confused when he pulled away. "What was that?"

"A kiss?," Gerry tried, suddenly uncertain.

Michael nodded, "I know. But...why?"

Gerry ran a hand through his hair, cheeks turning a light pink. "Uh...gratitude? Sorry, I should've asked first."

Michael thought for a moment, watching Gerry with newfound interest. "Do it again."

Gerry raised an eyebrow, a small grin on his lips as he leaned in to plant another kiss to Michael’s cheek, lingering a little longer before pulling away again. Michael made its weird buzzing noise it sometimes made when they were curled up on the couch, somewhere between a hum and a cat’s purr. 

"Again," it hummed, staring Gerry straight in the eye with an expectant expression, amidst others.

Gerry chuckled, “Demanding, are we?” He considered it for a moment. It was still uncomfortable to watch its eyes for too long and his eyes wandered south, coming to stop on its lips. 

Gerry had probably spent one too many instances looking at those in the last weeks. It had been difficult to keep his mind from wandering to how they might feel when he spent so much time marveling at how very off its skin felt, seemingly slightly different every time Gerry felt it. Would its lips be the same? He was itching to find out. Fuck it.

"Okay, how about this?" He gently turned Michael’s head towards him, leaning in again, and pressing his lips to Michael's. 

Michael seemed to vibrate at the touch - maybe something like a shiver? - and Gerry pulled away after a short moment, his own lips feeling a lingering buzzing sensation even after such a short kiss. Michael’s face followed him as he pulled away, making a noise of disapproval. 

Gerry grinned at it. "Enjoyed that?"

Michael nodded. "Can I?"

Gerry considered for a moment, then nodded. "Sure."

Michael nearly knocked Gerry over in its enthusiasm as it pressed its lips to Gerry's, and Gerry brought his hands to its face to steady himself. Michael started moving it’s lips against Gerry’s and that definitely felt off, somewhat staticy, not quite the right shape, but it didn’t feel unpleasant. Gerry closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss.

Gerry pulled away after a moment to catch his breath and when he opened his eyes he regretted that decision, because Michael was still somewhat in one piece, but also floating bright shapes, and glitching in places, eyes too big and colours too frantic and it hurt to look at. 

Gerry looked away, "Uh, you're...dissolving?"

Even its voice sounded more layered than it usually did, "I'm sorry! I'm...back together. It...you can look now, if you want."

Gerry nodded and did so, and Michael looked vaguely human again. Gerry grinned. "Is that going to happen every time we kiss?"

Michael looked surprised, "We're going to kiss more times?"

Now Gerry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I mean..only if you want to, of course."

Michael nodded excessively. "I do! I...I think I can get used to not...unravel. This was just...new."

He smiled and tucked a strand of free-floating blond hair behind Michael’s ear. It wrapped around his finger for a moment, as if caressing it, before letting go. “Okay, then.” 

"Again..?," it asked and it nearly sounded bashful. 

Gerry chuckled. "Guess you need to practice not dissolving…," he muttered before leaning in again to capture Michael’s lips with his once more. Gerry felt them shift against his, mold into a shape that fit perfectly against his lips. 

He probably should have been more freaked out by that than he was.

  
  


*

  
  


The next day Gerry was doing dishes when Michael appeared. He had glanced at the door when he started feeling the slight buzzing that accompanied it, but didn’t bother to stop what he was doing. It had taken him hours to finally find the will to do dishes, if he didn’t do them all now they’d be piling up again in no time.

Michael came to a stop right next to him, "Gerry. What are you doing?"

"Michael, hi. Dishes." Gerry craned his neck. Michael was closer than he first anticipated - its voice always seemed to come from anywhere anyways, so it was often hard to tell - and Gerry decided to brush his lips against Michael’s jaw.

"That felt...different. From yesterday." It sounded surprised. 

Gerry grinned and put the last plate into the dish rack. "Probably because it was a different spot."

That seemed to pique its interest. "They all feel different?"

"Somewhat?" He dried off his hands and turned around to face it.

It brushed some stray hair out of Gerry’s face, "What's your favourite?"

"Spot to be kissed?”

It nodded.

Gerry shrugged, “I don't know, never thought about that. And also...it’s not like I get to do a whole lot of trying." 

Michael drew its eyebrows together, disapproving. Still too far. "I'll change that."

Gerry leaned back against the counter, raising one eyebrow in amusement. "You will?"

It nodded, determined. "Right now."

It bent down to kiss Gerry’s face, sometimes lingering, sometimes just planting butterfly kisses against his skin. It all felt a little weird, the whole situation, but Gerry felt light and he giggled, a bubbly sound he didn't know he could make. Michael looked surprised too, stopping in its tracks to look at him in what Gerry could only describe as wonder.

"That was...adorable." it smiled.

Gerry felt his face heat up and Michael gently brushed his fingers over his cheek before planting a kiss on his lips. Gerry sighed, laying his hand on top of Michael’s. Michael seemed to see that as an opportunity to take his hand and bring it to its lips, kissing the skin between the small eyes on his fingers, brushing its lips against the back of his hand.

Gerry watched it for a moment. "Doesn’t it feel weird? The scarred skin."

Michael looked confused. "Weird?" It ran its finger over the palm of Gerry’s hand carefully.

Gerry shrugged. "I don’t know. Not...nice?"

Michael frowned. "It feels different from your face but it still feels nice." 

It pressed its lips to his palm and Gerry shivered. He smiled tentatively, bringing his free hand up to Michael’s face, running his fingers over Michael’s cheek. It smiled and pressed its lips to the spot right beneath the palm of Gerry’s hand, where his wrist began. He sighed contently. 

Michael seemed intrigued. "Is that your favourite?"

Gerry laughed. "Are you trying to guess by my reaction?" 

Michael shrugged. "I might."

He grinned, tracing the line of its jaw with his fingers. "It's definitely a contender,” his grin widened, “But there's still a lot to try."

Michael pressed its forehead against his. "Can I kiss your lips again?"

"Is that _your_ favourite?"

"I like them all equally for now,” it said with a cheeky grin.

Gerry rolled his eyes, lips pulling into a fond smile before leaning in to press them against Michael’s.

  
  


*

  
  


It turned out Michael really enjoyed kissing. It was always determined to, at some point during its visits, exchange some kisses with Gerry. It didn’t matter where he was or if he was busy. It’d wait - or find a way to hurry whatever Gerry was doing up - for an opportunity when Gerry would take a break. It’d be there, and Gerry’s break turned longer than intended because he didn’t actually _not_ want to kiss it, so why would he? 

He wasn’t going to complain about it, that’s for sure. Michael didn’t interrupt him on his hunts, which would probably have been the most inconvenient of moments to be asked for kisses. Any other time it turned up to ask for them had Gerry hard pressed for an excuse not to indulge it. Not that he ever thought too hard about possible reasons not to kiss Michael. 

There were none, as far as he was concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in such a fluff-writing mood for like...half of the time I worked on this and I think it shows.


	6. Chapter 6

They were curled up on the couch one late afternoon, Gerry relishing in the comfortable quiet after a rather eventful week. He felt like he hadn’t really been home for most of it and melted into Michael’s gentle touches and kisses, sighing contently. In theory, he should probably worry about dinner soon. He was hungry. But first and foremost, he was incredibly cozy and refused to give that up already.

Michael pulled away from pressing its lips to Gerry’s temple. “You haven’t been home much.”

Gerry turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of its face without moving from his position. “You sound disappointed.”

It shouldn’t necessarily matter to Michael whether Gerry was home or not. It always found him, outside or in his hotel rooms. So he was a little surprised to hear those words in a tone that sounded close to a whine. 

Michael rested its hand against Gerry’s cheek, looking him in the eyes. “I like when you’re home. You’re more...relaxed. Your home looks better with you in it.”

“I…” Gerry wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that, but that didn’t keep the heat from rising to his cheeks. It sounded like a compliment. “Thanks?”

He took the hand touching his face and pressed his lips to one of Michael’s knuckles. It made that weird noise that sounded like a purr but also not.

“Liked that?” He ran his thumb over the bony hand. It nodded and he grinned. “Maybe I should kiss all of them, then.”

“Would you?”

“Sure,” he planted a kiss on its cheek, “but after dinner. I’m starving and it may take a while.” He laughed and Michael joined in pulling him into its arms, burying its face in his hair.

“What will you eat?,” it mumbled into Gerry’s hair.

“I’ll just order something. Can you get me the phone?”

Michael did, letting go of Gerry with one arm and plucking the phone from where Gerry had left it on the table. The rest of its body didn’t move, which was delightfully convenient because Gerry was really quite comfortable. He pressed a kiss to its shoulder before dialing and its fingers danced up and down his arm as he ordered. 

They ate - as in Gerry ate and Michael occasionally stole some of the food - curled up on the couch, Michael planting stray kisses wherever it could without interfering with the eating too much. Gerry barely registered the odd twist and turns of its form against him anymore as it tried to reach places it definitely should not be able to with Gerry sitting against it as he was. The movements still registered as wrong, but they were also familiar by now, which was a strange juxtaposition of emotions to feel about the same thing. 

Michael probably loved it, and Gerry really had no reason to complain himself.

Gerry chuckled and put the empty container to the side when he was done eating. “You always act like you haven’t seen me in ages.”

“Well, lately you’ve been on the run a lot or otherwise busy.” It was pouting, Gerry didn’t even need to look at it to know.

“You still come and find the minutes in between for cuddles and kisses, though,” he teased, turning around in its lap and wrapping his arms around it.

It took the opportunity to kiss the tip of his nose. “They just feel nicer like this. I like you...safe.”

Gerry raised an eyebrow. He was never safe, but Michael knew that. He let it slide and leaned in for a kiss instead, which Michael gladly returned, fingers running down Gerry’s back, following the line of his spine. Gerry shivered, his own fingers tracing the back of Michael’s neck.

"Didn't you want to kiss my fingers?," it mumbled against Gerry’s lips when he pulled away to breathe, grin wide and voice teasing as it brushed a strand of hair behind Gerry’s ear, thumb tracing the shell of his ear.

Gerry tilted his head slightly, following the touch with a satisfied sigh. He grinned back at it, resting his hands on its shoulders.

"I'll get to it,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to its upper lip, “busy now…"

Michael let out a low cackle and wrapped its fingers around Gerry’s waist. "That so?" It caught Gerry’s lip ring between its teeth - which still made Gerry freeze, those definitely looked like they  _ should _ cut, even if they never did - before running its tongue over it, making Gerry shiver.

He brought his hands to rest against its cheeks. “Yeah, I think so,” he muttered before pressing their lips back together again.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Michael still sometimes dissolved a little at the edges when they got caught up in kissing, but it became pretty good at not losing its shape as it did the first time. Which was probably a logical conclusion, considering all the practice, but Gerry still appreciated it. He loved to open his eyes to catch his breath and seeing its face, eyes as focused as they ever got, half-lidded and accompanied by a too wide grin, with too many too sharp teeth. Predatory, his mind offered. Well, if Michael did decide to harm him he’d be fucked, because looking at that expression certainly didn’t trigger his flight instinct, but it sure as fuck prompted some other, more interesting feelings.

  
  


It wasn’t rare for Gerry to end up kissed breathless into the couch as the night went on, Michael somehow managing to find the space for its long limbs despite Gerry taking up most of the space on his back like that. This particular night Michael had found space for its hands underneath Gerry’s shirt and long fingers were wrapped around him, brushing his sides, his chest. 

Gerry would have been quite occupied with trying to make sense of those movements against his skin because they made no sense and sometimes it felt like more than ten fingers or it felt even less like fingers than usual, but Michael was leaving wet, open mouthed kisses down his neck, tongue flicking against sensitive skin, still so clearly inhuman. Gerry was still struck with the urge to pull away and the urge to pull Michael closer at the same time because it felt amazing and Gerry wanted more. 

"Michael?," he finally managed to breathe out.

It looked up, clearly not amused by having to stop kissing Gerry’s neck. Gerry huffed out a laugh. “Don’t look so disappointed. I...do you want to take this to the bedroom?”

“Do you?”

Gerry nodded. “Yes.”

  
  


*

  
  


Michael kissed him again as soon as they were inside the bedroom and Gerry returned the kiss eagerly, hands making quick work of unbuttoning Michael's bright shirt, running his fingers down its chest when done. It didn't feel quite right, and Gerry was fairly sure something had shifted under what went for Michael’s skin when he touched it, but he pushed the alarm bell going off at the back of his head away and moved his hands up to Michaels shoulders, sliding the shirt off its arms. He decided not to think about the fact that Michael's hands didn’t move from Gerry’s hips as the shirt hit the floor. 

Gerry ran his hands over it's back, breaking the kiss. "If...if you get uncomfortable and want to stop, tell me." 

Michael pressed its forehead against his, mumbling, "If you didn't have to breathe I dont think I'd ever stop kissing you." It kissed Gerry again, slower this time, tender. 

Gerry decided he wouldn’t mind that at all and kissed him back, momentarily forgetting why he ever interrupted the kissing for in the first place.

The next time he pulled away it was for air, but he also managed to remember. “Okay but...well, if you change your mind or want to stop-”

“I’ll let you know.” it slipped its hands back underneath Gerry’s shirt, pulling him closer, “Same for you.” Its fingers were running up his sides and Gerry let it remove his shirt.

“Okay.” He nodded, pressing his lips to its jaw, before pulling it to bed.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry wasn’t exactly sure what woke him up, but it was still dark outside when he opened his eyes. He was met with another pair of eyes staring at him, unblinking, inches from his face. In retrospect, Gerry was surprised he didn’t shot up and scrambled out of bed right then and there. Instead he returned the look, somewhat surprised. 

“You’re still here,” he mumbled.

Michael looked confused. “Should I have left?”

“No!” Gerry rubbed at his eye, trying to shake off sleep. “I just assumed...well, you don’t sleep.”

“But you do.” Its fingers were gently caressing Gerry’s cheek.

“Well, that’s part of why I assumed you’d leave. Can’t be too exciting to just...watch me sleep.”

“But it is. It’s always exciting to watch you,” it said, matter-of-factly.

Gerry snorted, “That...I’ll try to take that as a compliment, but that was a really fucking creepy thing to say.” He leaned his forehead against Michael’s, chuckling a little. 

It ran its hand through Gerry's hair. “I  _ am _ creepy.”

“Mhm, the creepiest," Gerry mumbled, cuddling closer.

They lay in blissful silence, Michael gently twisting Gerry's hair around its fingers. Gerry closed his eyes and sighed, resting his hand on Michael's arm.

“Gerry?,” it whispered after a moment and Gerry opened his eyes again.

“Hm?”

It struggled trying to put what it wanted to say into words that wouldn’t hurt. “You make me...warm,” it managed.

Gerry was a little surprised, not having expected that. “Oh, do you need a bit of space? I didn’t know you felt temperatures much-” He started shuffling away a little, but Michael stopped him, hand wrapping around his arm.

“No! I, uh...inside,” it pulled a face as it stung a little, the attempt to make its words clearer. But it wanted Gerry to understand and it searched his eyes, hoping to find that understanding.

Gerry looked at its face, confused for a moment. The words had come out heavy, and Gerry watched as its face contorted painfully as it said them. He wasn’t completely sure if he understood, but he cradled its cheek, running his thumb gently along its skin.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, tentatively, unsure if he interpreted it right. 

If the relieved expression that followed was anything to go by, Gerry guessed he had. He smiled, leaning in to press his lips to Michael’s forehead. Michael made its content noise, a blissful smile on its face as it leaned into the touch, putting his hand on Gerry’s and squeezing it gently.

Gerry grinned as he pulled away, “You really like forehead kisses, don’t you?”

It nodded, rubbing small circled into Gerry’s wrist, making him shiver pleasantly. Gerry touched his forehead to Michael’s again.

“Is that your favourite?”

Michael grinned, “It might be. I’m not telling you.”

Gerry laughed and kissed the tip of its nose. This was nice. He liked this. He wrapped his arms around it, moving closer. Michael hummed drawing patterns with its fingers on Gerry’s back.

  
  


*   
  


Gerry enjoyed it when Michael stayed the night. It made little difference to him, the sensation of being watched. It was a constant anyways, even when he didn’t have two wide eyes inches from his face. So it wasn’t really a problem. In a strange way, it was somewhat comforting to know exactly what was watching him. 

Or maybe it was more about how he was being watched. Like he was something precious, something Michael didn’t want to miss even a moment of. Sometimes Gerry did wish it would at least blink occasionally. But usually he was too busy feeling very warm under that gaze to do so. He felt appreciated, for the first time in his life, and it was a nice feeling to have.

Gerry didn’t know who - or what - started it, but he also quite enjoyed having its hand in his as he fell asleep and, if he got lucky, when he woke up. The motion of lacing their fingers together became some kind of ritual, something that ended the day, invited sleep. Gerry closed his eyes and focused on the slight tingle of those fingers against his own until sleep took him.

It was also a very convenient way to determine whether Michael should wake Gerry up from a bad dream. It learned quickly that Gerry’s face often stayed blank at first, but his fingers started twitching or cramping slightly. Michael had given up waiting for it to maybe calm down on its own. When Gerry started having nightmares, they didn’t fade unless he was woken up. Even then there was usually a couple moments of Gerry staring, wide-eyed and unseeing, before he finally realised that the dream was over.

Michael didn’t think it’d ever hate seeing somebody struggle so much to distinguish between dream and reality. It hated that it couldn’t do anything to make it stop, could only wake him, hold him as the shock subsided and the shaking started, kiss his hair and mumble gentle reminders about the dream being over now. Gerry clung to it, silent as he tried to calm his racing heart, tried to wake up properly. 

Michael finally understood why Gerry always looked so tired.

“Do you want to get up?”, it asked on most such nights. Gerry disliked lingering in bed after a nightmare.

Gerry nodded, but didn’t move until Michael did, maneuvering them out of bed. They’d move to the couch, and Gerry would curl up in its lap, wary of falling asleep again, but clearly still tired. Some nights, he’d fall asleep again after a while, Michael gently running its fingers over his back in a calming motion. Some nights, he fought sleep, forcing his eyes open again despite them clearly wanting to close. 

Tonight, it was one of those nights and Michael was starting to feel sorry watching him struggle.

“Do you want a coffee?”

Gerry took a moment for the words to register in his foggy state. He looked up, and there was something akin to a grin pulling on his lips. “Do you think you can make one without making the machine explode again?”

Michael pouted, “That happened once.”

“It was very memorable,” Gerry yawned. He struggled to open his eyes again, letting out a frustrated sigh. “But yeah, I need one. I can make it myself, though, if you let me go.”

“Do you want me to?”

Gerry wanted pretty much anything but, and he wasn’t going to lie about that. “No.”

Michael gently stroked his face. “Then I’ll make one.”

Gerry finally managed to open one eye. “You could also carry me into the kitchen and I’ll make coffee.”

He hadn’t intended to say that out loud and blushed a little as the words registered through the haze of sleep still clinging to him. Michael seemed rather interested in the idea.

“I could. Do you want to?,” it asked, brushing some hair stuck to Gerry’s face behind his ear, admiring the gentle pink colour of his cheeks. Gerry looked so pale when he woke up from a bad dream. Michael liked this so much better.

Gerry’s blush deepened and he looked away, nodding. Michael smiled and gathered him into its arms before getting up. Gerry seemed somewhat surprised by that and clutched the front of Michael’s sweater to hold on to.

“I’m not dropping you,” Michael promised, bending down to press a kiss to Gerry’s forehead.

“I...just wasn’t expecting you actually do that.” There was a bit of a chuckle in Gerry’s voice and he buried his face in Michael’s chest as latter carried him into the kitchen.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be getting less...soft.

“Do you not like him? The new Archivist,” Gerry asked from where he was laying in Michael’s lap. 

It had appeared an hour or so ago, finding Gerry in his hotel room, going through his notes on the Leitner he was hunting down. It had looked an odd combination of excited and dreading, and it hadn’t taken too long for Gerry to figure out from its convoluted sentences that there was, apparently, a new Archivist.

Gerry hadn’t even been aware that Gertrude was gone. To his own surprise, he felt a little sad. Well, he probably shouldn’t. She had survived surprisingly long, considering how much she knew. From what Michael said, the new Archivist was seemingly the opposite. Oblivious. Gerry felt uneasy at that, and had said that he would stop by the institute to see for himself, to help. Michael looked anything but happy about the idea.

“No. He’s...amusing.”

“Then what is it?”

Michael nearly regretted telling Gerry about the new Archivist. Michael still did not like the idea of Gerry getting involved with the Institute and since Gerry had stayed clear of it, he probably wouldn’t have known otherwise. Wouldn’t have wanted to return. But Michael couldn’t say all of that, so it just glared at the mirror in front of the bed. 

Gerry pet its knee. “I’m not planning to actively work with him, Michael. I...it just feels wrong to not try to help.”

Michael didn’t think it sounded awfully wrong. Nothing good came of that Institute, much less when it involved the Archivist. It’s frowned deepened, its hands restlessly twitching on the bed.

It was rare for Michael to get into this kind of state. Gerry had witnessed it occasionally when he mentioned a particularly dangerous Leitner hunt or something, but it was rare. And he was glad about it, because he really disliked seeing Michael like this.

“Do you want to go for a walk?,” he asked after another moment passed of Michael glaring silently. Sometimes walks calmed it, that much Gerry had figured out.

“No.”

He sighed, sitting up and brushing a curl behind its ear. “In the hallways?”

Michael hesitated for a moment, before nodding. The door appeared next to them on the bed and they got up to step through.

Gerry still got a bit woozy when he was inside the hallways but he knew Michael felt better there and as long as he could clutch unto Michael’s hand, he managed, too. Normally, Gerry tried to distract Michael when it got antsy, or went on a walk. If neither worked, Gerry had found out, walking through its own hallways tended to calm it down. And today it seemed like it needed it so Gerry braced himself for the painful, bright colours and went for a walk in the ever twisting hallways of the Spiral.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry went to meet the new Archivist right after returning to London. The man had looked somewhat bewildered by his appearance. Apparently he had tried to find Gerry to follow up on a statement but had been unable to locate him, which Gerry found satisfying to hear. However, after introductions where over, the Archivist - Jon - wasn’t shy with questions. 

Gerry had supplied what else he knew, which probably wasn't much compared to what Gertrude had kept secret from him. When he left Jon had looked somewhat overwhelmed, trying to process what he had just heard. Gerry left his number in case more questions came up or help was needed. He didn't want to get too involved but he couldn't not at least try to offer some help.

  
  


*

  
  


Michael wasn't happy about the whole arrangement but it frowned in silence. Part of it was intrigued what Gerry’s involvement might bring to what was happening in the Institute. Most of it wanted Gerry far away from it because nothing good ever happened in that place. It held Gerry a little tighter as they curled up in bed that night. Michael felt better when Gerry didn’t start making visits to the Institute a habit. 

It still hung around the Institute itself. It enjoyed annoying the Archivist on occasion, partly wanting to see him dead just because he was the Archivist and it was the Archivist who had made Michael into the mess it was. It liked imagining ending him. But for now, it was more interesting to watch and see.

  
  


*

  
  


While Gerry did not start working with the Institute again, he did find it easier to gain access to the research materials there now. He kept out of the archival staff’s way, but nobody bothered him when he came to check for something. Sometimes Jon found him and asked him to take a look at a statement or another, but that was it. 

Today, Gerry was waiting for Jon to return with whatever he wanted Gerry to look at. He was going through one of the boxes with statements while doing so, more out of boredom - when Michael’s door appeared behind him.

“Haven’t found you here in a while,” it said, wrapping its arms around Gerry and leaning its head on his.

Gerry smiled. “Should be to your taste, no?”

Gerry could hear the frown spreading on Michael’s face. Literally. He wasn’t exactly sure how he knew what that noise was, but he just did.

“It’s okay, Michael,” he sighed.

“For now,” it mumbled, pressing its lips to Gerry’s hair, kissing a trail down his temple. Gerry sighed and leaned into the touch, craning his neck to the side as Michael’s lips wandered further down, gently nibbling his ear.

“Is this my punishment for upsetting you?,” Gerry mumbled, grinning.

Michael sighed and pulled him closer. “No. I just missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

It pressed a kiss to the spot behind his ear. “I have no concept of time in the halls. It sometimes feels like years.”

Gerry raised an eyebrow. “You have a concept of what years feel like?”

It hesitated for a moment before admitting, “Probably not.”

Gerry chuckled, turning around in its arms to kiss its lips. Michael was quick to return it, hands combing through Gerry’s hair, tugging gently to tilt Gerry’s head and kiss him more deeply. Gerry wrapped his arms around its neck, leaning into the kiss with a content sigh.

It was Jon who interrupted them by clearing his throat. Michael pulled away from the kiss, but kept one arm around Gerry. There was something in the way the Archivist was looking at them that made Michael not want to leave Gerry alone with him. Well, even more than usual.

“I wasn’t aware you...knew each other,” Jon said and his tone put Gerry on edge.

Gerry ran a hand through his slightly mussed hair. “Well, it’s none of your business.”

“According to you, it is, as far as I remember your explanation about the Fears and all.” Gerry narrowed his eyes, but Jon still continued, “It’s a monster.”

Gerry crossed his arms in front of his chest, unimpressed. Or at least he hoped that was how he looked. He didn’t like where this was going. “I’m aware,” he said, voice cold.

Jon persisted, “It kills people. You’re just...fine with that?”

There it was. That’s the thing that Gerry had been expecting and knew was coming. Despite bracing himself, it hit him hard. Gerry had, of course, always been aware of the killing. He unfortunately wasn’t stupid enough to believe Michael to be an exception. Michael had even mentioned it once or twice, in passing. But Gerry had still somehow managed to push that fact down. He didn’t want to think about it.

He sighed, detaching himself from Michael and walking towards Jon. Jon watched him warily, but didn’t move or say anything as Gerry snatched the files out of his hands. 

“I’ll text you about these,” Gerry mumbled and turned around. Michael was already holding the yellow door open that hadn’t been there the moment before. They stepped through it, leaving Jon and the Institute behind.

  
  


*

  
  


It shouldn’t even bother Gerry that much. He grew up with murder, after all. But it wasn’t like that never bothered him about his mother, either. Gerry just wasn’t Gertrude. He wasn’t cold enough to be unfazed by this. But he had managed fine pushing it back.

Until he didn’t because Jon said it with so much judgement, betrayal even, amid his usual annoyed tone and Gerry couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t because Jon was right, of course, and Gerry had been simply accepting - ignoring even - the fact that his partner occasionally ate people. 

It was frankly impressive that he even managed to push it back so successfully. Or maybe it wasn’t, considering the practice he got repressing shit from growing up with Mary. But now it was failing him and he let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with his hands. Michael had opened its door into Gerry’s living room and Gerry let himself fall unto the couch.

“Gerry?” It sounded so sad and Gerry hated having to hear its voice like that.

“I’m sorry, I think...I think I’ll take a walk.” He definitely needed a cigarette. Maybe a drink.

“I should...go?”

Gerry nodded, “I think so.”

Michael nodded and it made a door, keeping itself from bending down to kiss Gerry goodbye before stepping through it. Gerry waited until the buzzing sensation disappeared before getting up again. He threw the files unto the couch table and walked to the apartment door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's angst o'clock.

Gerry tried very hard to go back to how it was before. It didn’t work. Every time he looked at it he started wondering what kind of people it had taken into those hallways. If they had been there on the occasions Gerry had been walking through them himself. 

It wasn’t the first time such a thought made it into his mind, but he couldn’t just brush it away as he used to. And he hated it. Gerry wanted to not think about it, wanted to be able to sit with Michael and laugh at its nonsensical comments, enjoy its cackling laughter without wondering if that was the last sound its victims heard. 

He couldn’t. And Michael clearly noticed that he was distracted, and it clearly knew why, and it looked sad, so openly sad Gerry wondered how it didn’t pain it to show it. He realised that maybe he had just become better at reading it over time, and that made it worse, somehow, because it made him wonder how many people had died in those hallways while Gerry had been enjoying its company, its kisses. 

They left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue now, as he couldn’t push the thoughts away, the images of people being tricked into stepping through those doors, just as Michael had tried to do with him once, and Gerry  _ couldn’t stop fucking thinking about it _ .

He let out a frustrated sigh, pulling away from the kiss they were sharing and rolling unto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to go back to ignoring the murder, which made him feel guilty. It was selfish, of course. Gerry didn’t want people to die.

“Why did you never try eating me?,” he asked, just to somehow occupy his mind, to stop it spiralling with his own horrible ideas.

Michael sounded more quiet when it answered. It sounded more quiet a lot, lately, and it was Gerry’s fault. “I...did.”

“Not really.” Gerry hated how cold he sounded.

“I don’t know, Gerry,” Gerry could hear it struggle with the words. “I realised at some point that I...didn’t want to? And then...maybe I never wanted to.”

Gerry sighed, looking at it. He missed looking at it and being able to see the strange beauty in those sharp lines, and little else. “Do you feel that with other people? Ever?”

It was biting its lip. Sometimes it did that when Gerry was pushing for a too genuine answer. “Not really,” it tried, carefully choosing the words so it didn’t hurt too much. Gerry still noticed it flinching.

“They’re all food to you?” His voice sounded sharper than intended.

Michael thought about that, “Well, the ones inclined to give into the Spiral, mostly...” It never gave humans much thought beyond ‘possible nourishment’ and ‘interesting to watch’. But Gerry probably didn’t want to hear that. And Michael was already struggling with keeping its shape while forcing itself to hold this conversation.

Gerry knew he was being unfair. Michael couldn’t hold conversations like this, not without pain. Gerry did not want to hurt it. Not more than he already was.

“I’m sorry, that...I didn’t want to snap at you,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I...I’m trying. It’s...I just can’t seem to go back from this. It’s like Jon broke down a dam and now those questions and ideas keep flooding me and- I’m sorry, Michael. I really am.”

Michael reached out and gently touched his arm. “M-”

Gerry pulled his arm away, “I know. Don’t hurt yourself. I...I think I’ll try to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

Michael minded it a lot. He missed watching Gerry sleep, having him cuddled up against it, content. He was always tense lately, mind clearly racing. Michael hated it. It hated that the Archivist had done this. But still, it nodded and went away. It still thought about the goodbye kiss it didn’t get, didn’t insist on anymore. But it was a fleeting thought. It was getting used to this.

*

Michael didn’t know how to help Gerry and it was distressing. The urge to do so was bigger this time, mingled with the yearning to go back to how they had been, too many too strong feelings making it physically painful to constantly watch the shadows passing through Gerry’s eyes when he saw it. It hurt, in an utterly new way, and Michael hated it. It was getting desperate.

“What if I don’t eat? I don’t...I don’t think I can die.” At least not in the sense of the word as humans used it commonly.

Gerry looked up at the dark sky. He was regretting letting Michael join him walking back to his apartment from where he just had burned a book. Gerry had refused the door when Michael offered it, but agreed to it walking with him. Maybe that had been a mistake.

“You’ll get weaker, though. And at some point, you might be able to be killed,” Gerry sighed. “I...I don’t want you to suffer, Michael. I don’t. I love you.”

It hurt hearing that in that weary tone of Gerry’s voice. “But it’s hurting you. The knowledge.”

Gerry shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Well, that’s really nothing new.”

But Michael refused to give up. “It might help.”

“I doubt it, Michael, but if...if you want to try? That’s up to you.” Gerry was whispering by the end. He didn’t want Michael to hear how little faith he had in the idea, not when Michael sounded this desperate about it.

It nodded. “I do.”

*

It went okay at first. It wasn’t like Michael needed that frequent meals and Gerry, though sceptical, decided to trust it when it said it wasn’t eating. He wasn’t exactly sure whether that made him feel better, though. It just added another layer to the guilt. But he tried, because obviously Michael was trying and Gerry didn’t want to just give up.

It was late, and a little chilly. It wasn’t a habit of Gerry’s to explore wherever his hunts brought him, but his mind had been restless so he had wandered the town most of the day, looking around. Michael had joined him at some point, and Gerry actually hadn’t minded. Or maybe he told himself that as he took its hand in his own. He was deliberately not trying to think of how those knifehands might come into use when it killed. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it waited patiently until its victims died of the stress from being stuck in the hallways, from dehydration. Gerry was not thinking of it. 

He was talking about something, anything really, and it was answering, and Gerry barely heard their words. His thoughts were too loud and he squeezed its hand, trying to ignore them and to simply enjoy a walk with Michael. Gerry used to enjoy that a lot. And he knew that part of him still did, so he tried to focus on that. And it worked, somewhat. After a while, it felt close to how it used to.

They had been silent for a while now, having settled under a tree in the empty park they had stumbled upon earlier. It had already been pretty empty then, but now it was utterly quiet now. Gerry was leaning against its side and it had one arm around him, fingers running up and down his arm. It felt so very familiar and yet so wrong now, and Gerry couldn’t stand it. He wanted his thoughts to stop for a fucking minute.

“Michael?”

It took a moment to react. Michael was lost in its thoughts, too, though they were related to its lack of food more than anything. It was starting to feel it. 

“Yes?,” it finally said, looking down at Gerry. Looking at him reminded it why it was good it was hungry. Gerry at least looked like he was somewhat enjoying himself.

“Kiss me.”

It wasn’t a request, as it used to be, but an order, and Gerry sounded somewhat irritated, but Michael took it. It needed a distraction from the hunger, so it bent down and kissed Gerry’s lips.

Gerry tried to forget his guilt and Michael tried to forget its gnawing hunger in the kiss, desperate and needy, which wasn't unusual, but it still tasted wrong for both. Their hands were searching for an escape as they roamed the others body, something, anything to make it stop.

"We should probably go back to the hotel," Gerry breathed after a moment and Michael was already opening a door.

*

  
  


A month passed, and some more, and Gerry was starting to notice it wasn’t doing well. At all. It was more silent than usual, its contribution to their conversations shorter. It didn’t seem to be quite there, and yet there was something intensely focused in its expression. When it started to flicker in places, glitch and fray at the edges Gerry understood that it had been focussing on looking fine for him. Gerry couldn’t take it anymore.

“Michael, I told you I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He touched its face, a mask of concentration as it stared at the TV. Sometimes Michael didn’t hear him anymore if he didn’t also touch it.

Its head snapped to the side, too quickly, too far. It blurred, and didn’t come into focus again as it looked at Gerry. “I can manage. I’m...fine.”

Gerry sighed. The desperation in its voice was making his chest tighten. “You’re dissolving.”

Michael was quick to answer. “It’s not hurting you.”

“This isn’t about me, Michael, but about you.” Gerry swallowed. “You need...you need to eat.”

It’s voice went shrill, and broke into many. “No! It’s okay, it’s working I...I can make it work.” 

Gerry’s ears were ringing, but he didn’t care. Michael was falling apart and it refused to acknowledge that because of him. His ears didn’t matter right now. He took its face in his hands and forced it to look at him. It wasn’t easy to look at it when it was in this state, but Gerry fought the dizziness and met its eyes. 

“I don’t think you can, Michael. Please, we...we’ll find something else. A different way. I…” Gerry had no ideas. His thumbs were tracing Michael’s cheeks and he felt the static coming off it, stronger than usual. Nothing was like usual anymore. “It’s going to be fine, but not if you cease to properly...exist.” He took a deep breath. The words sounded empty. Gerry  _ felt _ empty. “Please...eat.”

Michael’s eyes flared with frustrated anger for a moment, before they filled with sadness. It looked back at the TV, hugging its knees close to its body.

“Okay,” it whispered and it sounded positively crestfallen. Gerry tentatively brushed his fingers over its arm in a silent apology, but didn’t get closer. He wasn’t sure if Michael would appreciate that right now. He wasn’t sure if he could  _ do _ that right now.

*

It ate and things were back to how they were before it stopped doing so. Not that they had changed much while it had. They had tried, pretended, but it had never really worked. 

Michael was consumed by frustration and rage as it got its strength back and it didn’t know where to put it. Well, that wasn’t true. There was one person who had always filled Michael with those kinds of feelings. Now there were just more and it was so much worse and he wanted it to stop. 

Michael wanted the Archivist to stop. 

*

It was night when the door to Jon’s office opened. He looked up at the squeaking noise, somewhat sluggish from lack of sleep. It had been a long day and he couldn’t remember his office door making noises. It wasn’t his office door he saw when he looked up. 

His office door wasn’t yellow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was enjoying the fluff before so much I ended up feeling legit bad for writing this...


	9. Chapter 9

Michael didn’t know what was happening. 

It had been closing in on the Archivist, all rage and frustration finally about to be put to use, hands sharp and so, so  _ very _ close to his throat when it started tearing. The pain was worse than anything, and it screamed as the Archivist disappeared from view, because it was being ripped apart again, being pulled away from itself, but worse, so much worse, and it  _ screamed _ .

  
  


*

  
  


It was too much. The surroundings were familiar but they looked wrong, missing shapes and colourful noise. The Archivist was there, getting closer, but Michael pressed himself against the wall, trying to get away, wishing a door would open. He couldn’t hear him, his ears still ringing with its own scream, blood rushing - it was so loud, had it always been this loud? - in his ears and he tried to make himself smaller, squeezing his eyes shut. It was too much, all of it, and he was shaking and breathing hard and he didn't remember how this felt and it was  _ too much. _

He didn’t notice when the Archivist left the room.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry was jogging towards the Institute even before Jon ended the call. He had sounded winded, voice a pitch too high, which was distressing enough coming from somebody who Gerry had never heard leave the mildly annoyed tone of his, but his words were what got him running. Something was wrong with Michael. Gerry couldn’t exactly make out what, but he was fairly sure that Jon had said something about it being gone. And about it being back. 

He had given up trying to make him sound more coherent, and had simply started to run. Thankfully, he hadn’t been too far away from the Institute in the first place. His nightly wanderings often brought him close. 

He went straight to the Archivist’s office. Jon was in front of the closed door, pacing. Seeing him outside of the office set Gerry off even more.

“What the fuck happened? I could barely make out shit from your rambling. Where’s Michael?” Gerry tried to keep it together, but his tone still made Jon flinch. Gerry didn’t care. His thoughts were racing with alarm. 

“I don’t know how to explain. He...it…spit him out?” Jon sighed in frustration. “Look, see for yourself.” He opened the door and Gerry didn’t even think before stepping inside.

He didn’t hear it at first, over the beating of his own heart, but somebody was struggling to breathe. He scanned the room, confused by what any of this could have to do with Michael. Had it let its meals escape into the Archivist’s office? Gerry knew Michael liked to annoy Jon, but that seemed a bit far fetched. 

Jon came to a stop next to him and pointed to the spot of wall behind his desk. Gerry saw, now that that’s where the noise was coming from, though he couldn’t see much from where he was standing. A suggestion of what he assumed was some blond hair. 

Michael forced himself to look up at the new steps, heavier than the Archivist’s, but familiar. The room still looked off as he tried to blink away tears, but he didn’t think the tears were the reason. His eyes were met with Gerry when he finally managed to focus, his heart fluttering in a familiar way at the view of those features, the pretty black hair Michael remembered the feeling of so well. 

But it looked wrong, too, and Michael's head was hurting as another sob shook his body. Gerry froze in front of him, utterly confused and some part of Michael knew that he should be delighted at having such an expression directed at him. It was a memory though, distant and out of reach. He remembered that he should feel it, but did not. 

"Who's that?," Gerry whispered and Michael hurt in a different way, deeper, less...physical. 

His chest was tight and he still couldn't breathe and it was getting worse and he buried his - there was something so very wrong with his hands - in his hair, fists pulling slightly and the pain was a relief, the pain meant focus and he closed his eyes to forget Gerry’s confused face.

"That's Michael," the Archivist said and Michael recoiled because that wasn’t true. 

Gerry agreed. "That's not Michael." 

Despite Michael wanting to agree, most of him was in agony, falling apart, shattering and it hurt and he couldn’t breathe and there was something wet on his face, more tears, but they did nothing to hide the shock slowly creeping unto Gerry’s face and Michael can’t breathe and  _ it’s too much _ .

The voice of the Archivist was surprisingly soft when he spoke, “It’s what’s left of him. He...it spit him out, like I said.”

Gerry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his own heartbeat. It wasn’t easy with the violent sobbing and wheezing noises coming from the - from Michael, but he wouldn’t be much help if he worked himself into a similar state. 

And while Gerry would have loved to be the kind to walk out on this, he wasn’t. Even if this had been a stranger he wouldn’t have. 

“Jon, get out. Get him some water or something.” Gerry waited until he heard the door close behind Jon before crouching down in front of Michael.

It was difficult, to look at him from even closer. It was definitely Michael, but not quite. Round face looking too soft, his whole form too  _ static _ , despite the violent shaking. Gerry decided to stop himself right there. This wasn’t the moment to think about that.

“Listen to me, you need to breathe.” Gerry wondered if maybe he didn’t know anymore. Michael hadn’t needed to.

Michael was staring at him, eyes wide and full of tears, and they were burning, and Michael couldn’t figure out why until he closed them for a moment and remembered he had to blink again. 

His eyes no longer obeyed the urge to stay open to look at Gerry, despite Gerry still looking very much like somebody Michael wouldn’t want to miss anything from. But he was all blurry now because of Michael’s stupid tears and the stinging in his eyes, and his shaking. It only made him sob more.

"C-cant" Michael pressed out between sobs and something passed Gerry’s face, too quick for him to tell what it was, too out of focus.

Gerry wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure if touching him would be the right call. Sometimes it just made things worse, Gerry knew from himself. He took a steadying breath, ignoring the slight shaking in it. He needed to stay calm.

"I know, I know, follow my lead, okay? Focus on me," he tried sounding as calm as he could muster, looking into eyes that stung to look into because there was no eye-melting colours and confusing patterns in them anymore. They were grey.

Michael wasn't sure he could focus on anything, but he tried because Gerry asked him to, and Michael liked doing things for Gerry. To his surprise, it was easier than it had been before. When it had tried too hard to focus on Gerry sometimes it had started to unravel. Now Michael stayed put as the rest of the room fell away, leaving only Gerry. 

Gerry looked relieved when Michael finally seemed to manage to look back at him, but it didn’t last. "Okay, good, uh, can you...can you focus on me without holding your breath?"

And Michael didn't understand until his lungs were burning and he was panting again, a new panic, foreign. Gerry went out of focus making him panic more and-

"Michael, it's okay. Breathe. Like me, yes?" 

Michael felt like something stabbed him when Gerry said his name, so many things hidden in the way he said it, and Michael cried because he wasn't Michael and his grip on his hair tightened. 

"Don’t hurt yourself." Gerry barely managed not to flinch as the words left his lips. He hadn’t wanted Michael to hurt. Had it hurt to be separated again? Probably. 

He reached out to take Michael’s hands, pushing away the shock at how human they felt as he carefully pried away his fingers from his hair.

Gerry’s hands were over Michael’s now and it remembered the wrong feeling, electrifying. Now they felt wrong in a different way.  _ He _ felt wrong. He hissed when a curl got stuck between his cramped fingers as Gerry gently pulled it away. 

His hands were in Gerry’s now and they still felt the same but it looked wrong and Michael was shaking violently as he stared at his too short fingers, hands basically weightless in Gerry’s. His were still the same, pretty and a little rough. It looked so wrong. 

Wrong wasn’t good anymore.

Gerry squeezed his hands, "In," he said and took a deep breath. "And out." He breathed out, slowly. 

Michael took a moment before catching up with what was going on, but he tried to follow when he did, his own breathing shaky and interrupted by the occasional sob, eyes focused on Gerry’s face again. Gerry was kind. Michael didn't want him to look upset. So he tried to do what Gerry wanted him to.

Michael managed to calm down after a while, heart no longer racing. He wasn't choking anymore. He sighed in relief. Gerry smiled but it didn't quite look right. His eyes were blank. 

Gerry let go of one of his hands - Michael missed them already - and the next moment there was a glass of water pressed into them. Michael hadn’t noticed the Archivist coming back, but he seemed to be gone again. Gerry wrapped Michael's fingers around the glass. It felt comforting and Michael took it into both hands and stared at it. 

"Drink. It will make you feel better," Gerry mumbled and he sounded so tired. Michael did as he was told. He drank it quickly, noticing his thirst the moment the water hit his tongue.

Michael was confused about where to put the empty glass when he was done and Gerry took it from him, putting it to the side. Michael hesitated before looking back at Gerry’s face.

"Gerry…," he mumbled and the name was warm on his tongue, no longer tasting wrong when he said it like he wanted to, full of affection. 

Gerry froze and his face fell and Michael felt like somebody was twisting a blade in his chest. He remembered the feeling, though the pain had been less real then. It had been Gerry holding it then and it was Gerry holding it now.

"Let's...get you off the floor," Gerry mumbled, pulling Michael to his feet carefully.

Michael seemed a bit unsteady on his feet, and Gerry let him lean his weight on him. Gerry looked a bit more right from above, looking up at Michael in surprise.

“I guess the height wasn’t awfully distorted.” The small grin on Gerry’s face looked genuine before it faded again and he looked away. “Let’s get out of here. Can you walk?”

Michael nodded, carefully letting go of Gerry and standing on his own. Gerry walked to the office door and Michael watched, uncertain. Gerry turned around when he opened the door, beckoning him to follow. 

Michael did, and he tried not to look at the familiar walls of the archive as they walked through it. It would probably be too much to see it like this again, with human eyes. Michael didn’t even know how he felt about the place anymore. So he kept his eyes trained on Gerry’s back instead.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry brought Michael to his apartment. They didn’t speak and Michael wasn’t sure if he should have followed, except that Gerry occasionally glanced back, checking if he was still there. His eyes never lingered, but he would stop and wait for Michael to catch up if he noticed the blond had fallen back. 

Michael was still too distracted by how wrong everything felt. He forgot to walk sometimes.

“Do you..want to take a shower?,” Gerry asked after they were inside.

Michael first didn’t realise Gerry was addressing him. He still wasn’t looking at Michael. 

“S-Sure,” he answered. Michael remembered that showers used to calm him, before the ritual. Michael could do with something calming.

“I’ll get you some clothes.” Gerry went into his bedroom and Michael stayed put, trying to keep his head from spinning at how strange this very familiar apartment felt now. 

It never noticed how different things were. The Distortion had suppressed his memories until Michael barely knew who he was. That he ever had been. But now everything was back, washing over him, and he felt like his airflow was being cut off again. He needed to stop. It was too much at the same time, and he felt like he was drowning. 

Gerry emerged again, some clothes in his arms. Michael walked up to take them from him, seeing it as a welcome distraction to his thoughts. 

“You...know where everything is?,” Gerry mumbled. It wasn’t what he was asking and Michael knew.

“Yes, I...I remember. Thanks.”

“Okay, I...I’ll head to bed after getting a pillow and duvet for you.” Gerry was staring at something right beside Michael’s head. “If you need anything, want to eat or something...feel free.”

Michael nodded. “Thank you. Goodnight.” 

He wanted to add ‘sleep well’ but Gerry was tense and his face forcibly blank, the way it was when he was trying to hide his mood. So Michael kept it short and walked to the bathroom when Gerry turned away.

Michael took his time and when he stepped out again his skin was slightly wrinkly. For a moment he was quite fascinated by it. Even more by the fact that he couldn’t will it to look normal again. Whatever normal was, now. There was a pillow and duvet laid out for him on the couch when he arrived in the living room. Michael laid down, feeling rather weary from the warm water.

Everything was too strange. He spent so much time in this room, on this very couch, but nothing felt quite the same. And, of course, he never sat on it alone. Had it always been this big? Michael couldn’t get comfortable laying down, and gave up, sitting instead, curling up against the armrest like he used to lean against when his body would bend and twist to his will, slot itself perfectly against it. 

When Gerry would be sitting next to him or in his arms. Gerry didn’t know him, now. Michael wasn’t Michael.

He curled up a little tighter. There was too much going on in his mind, and at the same time it was too quiet. His mind was getting sluggish with exhaustion, but it still seemed too busy. He didn’t feel like himself. He wasn’t himself. He didn’t feel like anything, really. 

When he closed his eyes, memories flooded him again. They were all disjointed, distorted, but they were his, even if they didn’t feel like it. Most were unpleasant, faces he still remembered the names of running through bright hallways with panicked expressions, slowly getting more and more frantic. 

Some were of Gerry, and Michael tried to cling to those, despite them hurting him, too, just in a different way. They were still better than the others.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry did not sleep. There was too much to think about, and he didn’t want to think about any of it. His mind was buzzing, white noise as he refused to let any of it get close to him. He didn’t want to think about what it meant that a human Michael was sleeping on his couch. 

It was a stranger, really. Gerry didn’t know him, no matter how much he looked like his Michael. No matter that he had looked at Gerry like Michael used to before. It wasn’t even true that it had been the same look. This Michael’s eyes were much clearer, emotions right there to be seen, nothing confusing or distorted about it. This Michael was easy to read and his Michael wasn’t. They weren’t the same. 

Gerry didn’t notice when the tears started spilling over. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, feeling like his bed was so much emptier tonight. Michael hadn’t slept over in a while. 

It would probably come back again soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a shot of water every time I wrote "Michael" to stay VERY hydrated.

Gerry deliberately avoided looking at the couch when he walked into the kitchen in the morning. He heard soft breathing, though, meaning that Michael was probably still asleep. Michael had neither breathed nor slept and Gerry tried to remind himself of that. Maybe it’d make it easier to pretend the person on his couch was nothing but a stranger. 

Gerry made himself coffee. Even after spending the whole night thinking about it, he hadn’t come up with much of an idea of how to deal with the situation. Part of him regretted bringing him home. Why had he done that in the first place? He could have left Jon to deal with it.

Gerry rubbed his face. He wished Michael were there. He would have distracted Gerry with some incoherent conversation. Or brought him cinnamon rolls. Gerry forced himself to stop thinking about it. Steps were approaching the kitchen.

Michael shuffled into the kitchen and Gerry glanced at him. He regretted it instantly. He nearly wished the headache from the very beginning would be back. Because the kind of pain he felt now when he saw that face was somehow worse. The silence that stretched on was heavy.

“Coffee?” Gerry asked to break it.

“S-Sure, thanks.” His voice sounded rough, probably from sleep, but still, somehow, too much like Michael’s. 

Gerry made another coffee, holding out the mug to Michael, who took it. They stood in silence, both sipping their coffees. Gerry was too aware of the fact that he wasn’t the only one breathing anymore. Too aware of the fact that Michael wasn’t there.

He sighed, “Can I ask you something?”

Michael’s answer came instantly, “Yes?”

“How...how much do you remember?” It wasn’t the question he really wanted to ask, but the closest he trusted himself to get without his voice breaking.

_ If this night was anything to go by, everything,  _ Michael thought, running a hand over his weary face. He tried to keep his voice blank when he answered, “Everything, it seems.”

Gerry thought as much after seeing Michael looking at him like that in the Institute. He took a deep breath, “Can...can you tell me what happened? Jon was a bit worked up…”

Michael chewed on his lip. He remembered, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to think about it. “Michael got very angry. And...it wanted to kill the Archivist before already. For vengeance. It got a lot and it...snapped, I guess.”

Michael didn’t mention what got a lot. Gerry could imagine. Silence fell between them again.

“Gerry? Thanks for letting me stay. I...I’ll try to find a place of my own as soon as possible.”

Gerry ran a hand through his hair, “It’s okay. I...you seemed overwhelmed yesterday. Take your time to...get used to...things again. It’s fine.”

Was it fine? Gerry wasn’t sure, but he did feel sorry for Michael. Like he’d feel sorry for anyone else in his situation, Gerry assumed. It was hard to tell why he didn’t want him to go.

Michael was still chewing his lip. He put his mug down, scratching his arm. He wanted to tell Gerry that this was okay, but he didn’t know how. “It’s...okay, you know. That you don’t...care for me. I...you don’t know me. I...I still remember and I- well, my feelings didn’t change but...I know I’m not...your Michael. It’s...fine.” Michael’s fingers were burying into his arm by the end, but Gerry was still not looking at him. Which was fine. It _ was _ .

Gerry nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if Michael was necessarily right with the assumption that Gerry didn’t care for him, but he was too confused to try to say anything. He didn’t want to think about it.

Gerry finished his coffee, “I’ll..take a walk.” He didn’t see Michael’s nod as he turned away and left the kitchen.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry tried to get used to Michael, to look at him and see somebody else, who wasn’t Michael. It didn’t work. It just got worse and especially at night, it was difficult to keep the tears at bay. He started spending a lot of time taking walks or lingering after his jobs. He just couldn’t take it. 

And he was starting to feel bad for Michael, who looked like shit. The fleeting glances Gerry threw at him were enough to tell. His nights clearly weren’t pleasant either, and Gerry hated himself for being unable to get over himself and ask what it was that kept Michael from resting. He was afraid he might already know the answer. He didn’t want to confront it. He didn’t want to confront  _ him _ . He didn’t want to accept that this was all that was left of Michael, that it was gone. So he didn’t.

Michael tried to be as quiet as possible. He stayed out of Gerry’s way, going outside occasionally, trying to get used to it again. Still, Gerry didn’t seem to take to his presence well. Michael knew he should leave. He was making things difficult. But he didn’t want to lose Gerry. 

Well, not more than he already had.

Gerry had been gone for a while and Michael didn’t know if he had just gone for another walk, or if he had gone and gotten the book he’d been researching. Gerry didn’t really talk to him much. It was okay. Michael’s voice always brought a pained expression to his face, so it was probably for the better.

Michael was curled up on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, trying to keep his thoughts in check when he heard the door open. He fought the urge to go and meet Gerry, or to even greet him like he used to. Like it used to. Gerry wouldn’t like him hugging or kissing him to greet him now. He wasn’t the right Michael for that and Michael hugged himself a little tighter as he listened to Gerry’s steps walking from the door to the kitchen. 

He was probably hungry. Sometimes Michael didn’t really know whether Gerry ate when he was out or not. Considering he usually ordered something whenever he did come home, it had started to dawn on Michael that he might not. He didn’t like the idea of Gerry only eating take-out, so he had decided to cook something tonight while he was out. It should still be warm.

To Michael’s surprise, Gerry called out to him from the kitchen after a moment, “Michael?”

He scrambled into a sitting position, looking back at the kitchen door, heart racing, “Yes?”

Gerry came into the living room, plate in hand. “Did you make this?”

Michael straightened up. “Oh, uh...yes. I hope that...I hope that was okay? I just thought that you might be hungry when you...get back.” 

Gerry had told him to use the kitchen as he pleased in the beginning. Michael had been a bit reluctant, but he wanted to at least do something for Gerry. Help in some way. He missed helping him.

“No, it’s fine. It’s good. I was just wondering.” Gerry looked at him. “Thanks.” 

Every time Michael had tried to do anything in the kitchen, things had always gone very wrong. It never ended up with anything edible, but it was often very satisfied by how its adventures ended in things that looked slightly radioactive. For all Gerry knew it had been. 

He shook his head, stopping himself. Just another thing showing that this wasn’t Michael, which was good, probably. But he shouldn’t let himself think too much about it. That never went well.

Michael felt the heat rising into his cheeks - a perfectly reasonable red, not at all like Michael - and he brushed a curl behind his ear. “I-I used to really like cooking before...I wanted to try if I still know how to.”

“It at least tastes like you do,” Gerry said in between bites.

Michael gave him a dazzling smile, and Gerry froze for a moment. His heart skipped a beat, that giddy fluttering he had gotten used to as a reaction to Michael’s smiles. But the pain followed quickly as the initial wonder at how beautiful Michael’s face looked like that quickly gave way to the realisation of how even the smile looked so very familiar, even if it was nowhere as wide. Gerry looked away again, moving back into the kitchen to finish eating.

*

Gerry didn’t manage. He didn’t even know what it was that made it too much, if there even was one thing or if the weeks - how many had it been? Gerry had lost track of time - had just chipped away at the walls he had tried to keep up, slowly but consistently, until it all broke down.

Michael was gone. For good. And something inside him broke along the rip that had been there since the day he arrived at the Institut to find Michael Shelley. He had of course known what it meant. But Gerry refused to let it sink in. Not after watching Michael starve itself just to try and make things work between them again. He had been trying to find a way himself. He hadn’t wanted to lose Michael. And certainly not like this.

Gerry felt awful for the gutting sadness he felt, too. The new Michael had been nothing but kind to him despite him basically avoiding him after bringing him home. Michael deserved better. No matter how much Gerry tried to tell himself Michael was a stranger, he simply wasn’t. 

Michael was Michael, just not his Michael, not quite. And fuck, it hurt. It hurt because Michael still loved him, Gerry could see that. And Gerry? Gerry obviously didn’t  _ not _ care about him, far from it. He wasn’t sure what exactly he felt towards him. The only thing he was clear about, now, was that he missed his Michael.

He missed it so much he couldn't breathe. It wasn't fair towards Michael, not at all, but Gerry couldn't stop the tears anymore and weeped, face pressed into his pillow to stifle the sobs. He cried for the Michael who was gone, but also for the one sitting in the next room, who still looked at Gerry with love. Who still was Michael, no matter how much Gerry wanted to deny it.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry wasn't loud, but Michael was on edge, as always when night came and memories would flood him. So he heard him. And Michael didn't need to wonder what it was that was upsetting Gerry. He knew. He saw the pain crossing Gerry’s face whenever he looked at Michael. 

It reminded Michael of the shadow it had seen on there in the last months before it unraveled again. Except it cut deeper, and Michael didn’t know if that was because he was human now or because it was a constant reminder that he was not Michael, not to Gerry. Not to himself, sometimes. The memories felt wrong anyways. Could he even say he was the same? Any part of him?

His feelings didn’t feel wrong, not the ones towards Gerry. Michael knew he was hurting him by staying close but had chosen to tell himself it would be fine. He wanted it to be fine. He wanted to stay close. It obviously was not fine, and he hated himself for not having left when he noticed in the first place. He should have left Gerry grieve in peace without having to see what was left of his Michael. 

Michael didn't sleep that night. He didn't know when the tears started welling up in his eyes, but Michael had a lot of practice crying in silence.


	11. Chapter 11

Gerry woke up to a sweet smell and noises from the kitchen, which was new. Michael didn't sleep much - Gerry didn’t need to look too long to see that - but usually, if not asleep, Gerry found him staring into space on the couch, eyes big and features tense with whatever horrors still lingered from the night. Gerry hated that expression. He didn't like seeing suffering on Michael's face. He never had.

Today, though, Michael was in the kitchen making pancakes, from what Gerry could tell. He came to a stop by the door, uncertain. He watched Michael put the last pancake on the plate. Gerry didn’t look away when it stung to see the golden curls pouring down his back from a messy ponytail. Gerry wanted to stop avoiding Michael. That much he had managed to figure out in the night.

"Morning?", he tried and Michael tensed, turning around and tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

"Good morning. I uh...I made hot chocolate?,” he nodded at the mugs on the counter.

"I...thank you. You...you didn't have to." Gerry looked at his face, despite it still feeling like a punch to the gut. He furrowed his brows. "Rough night?," he asked because Michael looked even worse than usual, the shadow under his eyes deep bruises, eyes red at the corners. 

He looked exhausted and Gerry wondered if maybe he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it had been going on for a while but Gerry had been too absorbed with himself to notice. He felt a sudden urge to help Michael.

"I...could ask you the same," Michael said and his voice went soft as he reached out to touch Gerry’s cheek before pulling his hand away. 

He looked away and bit his lip and Gerry was conflicted between wishing he had gone through with it but also being thankful Michael had stopped himself. Gerry still remembered how his hands felt now. He didn’t want his newfound resolve to falter because it was too overwhelming.

Michael took one of the mugs on the counter into his hands, just for holding something. He didn’t want to slip up again. The mug was too hot, but he clutched it tightly. "I packed my things tonight and I'll be leaving as soon as possible."

Gerry took a moment to understand. "Leaving? Where are you going? What-"

"I...I shouldn't have imposed on you this long. You...you're hurting and I'm just making it worse. I'm...I don't want to be a bother anymore, Gerry."

"You're not a bother, Michael.” Gerry raked his fingers through his hair, trying to think of how to say things. He had hoped he could wait for after breakfast before trying to explain what conclusion he had come to last night. “I know I haven't been dealing with this well...or at all, really. And I'm sorry but...I don't want you to go." He searched for Michael’s eyes, unsure if the sincerity in his voice had been enough to make that believable. 

Gerry knew he hadn’t really been acting like he cared whether Michael stayed or not. But he did. He was afraid it had taken him too long to realise.

Michael refused to look at him, staring into the mug instead. He didn’t trust himself to be able to not start crying and he didn’t want Gerry to feel sorry for him. "Gerry, you're grieving and I'm making it hard by looking very much like who...what you miss. I should give you some space-"

"Go out with me," Gerry blurted out.

Michael nearly dropped the mug. "What?"

Gerry felt his face heat up. That hadn’t been the best way to put it, probably. He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I...I was thinking of this? Last night and- ah...I-I know I’ve been ignoring you, but I don’t...want to lose you.” He took a deep breath. It was really too early for this. “I do...look, I don’t know, okay? I...know you’re not Michael like I knew it, but you’re also-” 

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I still...care about you. I...it’s confusing. I know I don’t really know you but I thought...I thought that maybe if we...start anew? Or like, no...that’s not quite it. I...I think I’d like to get to know you, Michael. Properly.” Gerry was out of breath and his face was burning as Michael’s eyes just kept getting wider and he had to fight the urge to look away to hide his embarrassment. 

Michael was at a loss of words. This hadn’t gone at all like what he had braced himself for. “I...what?”

Gerry was getting more flustered by the minute. “Only if you want to, of course. I...know I haven’t really given you any reason to give me another chance.”

“No, that...that’s not - are you sure?” Michael was suddenly struck by how long Gerry had been directly staring at him, unflinching, determined. It was a little intimidating. His eyes were still as intense as they used to be. And as pretty.

Gerry nodded. “Yes.”

Michael bit his lip. “O-Okay…”

Gerry wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, so he tried again, “So...does that mean you’d be open to try? Would you go out with me?”

Michael suddenly really wanted to kiss him, which wasn’t new, but felt like an inappropriate priority to have right now. “Y-Yes.”

Gerry looked incredibly relieved. It was the first genuine smile Michael had seen on his face. He drank it in and smiled back.

"Uh, where...where do you want to go?,” Gerry asked after a moment of silence.

"Hm?" 

Gerry was rubbing the back of his head again. "For...the date."

Michael blushed. "Oh well...I...I don't know? H-How about we have breakfast first? The pancakes are getting cold."

Gerry somehow managed to blush more. “Oh! Oh, yeah, I mean...yes.”

It was a little awkward, but the pancakes were good and Gerry relaxed as he sipped his hot chocolate. He watched Michael eat, fascinated by how he actually chewed his food now. Gerry hadn’t even considered that. It looked...odd.

Michael tried to ignore the look, but it was really difficult. “I’m sorry, but...you’re making me a little nervous,” he finally managed to mumble, lips pulling into a shy smile.

Gerry quickly looked at his own plate. “Oh, sorry. That was rude.”

Michael smiled, “It’s okay. Are you liking the pancakes?”

Gerry nodded, “Good as everything you made so far.” He gave Michael a tentative smile before continuing to eat.

They cleaned up after finishing breakfast, both feeling lighter. Gerry was drying off the dishes Michael had just washed when he asked, “Do you want to go anywhere?”

“F-For the date?”

Gerry shrugged. “Or in general.” His cheeks were heating up again. “We don’t have to call it that, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Michael considered. “How about we just take a walk? I haven’t been outside in a while...”

Gerry nodded, looking out the kitchen window. “Fine with me. Do you want to go today? It stopped raining.”

“I...sure? Not like I have anything planned,” Michael chuckled, unable to help the small grin pulling at his lips.

Gerry laughed. “Good. I’m free, too.”

  
  


*

  
  


They went a little later, avoiding more crowded areas. Gerry wasn't found of them in the first place and Michael had barely been outside yet and still felt an intense wrongness and the idea of dealing with that with a lot of people around filled him with anxiety. Well, more than what he felt anyways. 

Gerry noticed how on edge he was and was reminded of the rare instances when Michael would get somewhat antsy. His chest tightened at the memory, but he didn't try to push it away. Distraction had often worked with it. Maybe it would with Michael now, too.

"So, you remember your life before the hallways, too, right?"

Michael looked up, surprised. That was already an improvement from nervous. "Yes."

"How was it? I mean...what did you do, besides working in the archive and cooking?"

Michael blushed lightly. "N-Not much, honestly."

Gerry raised an eyebrow. "Too consumed by work?"

"I liked my work. I...I felt like I had a purpose. I was being useful. Helping." Michael sounded a little defensive, which was kind of cute.

Gerry snorted, "Well, I bet if we could ask Gertrude she'd agree with that."

Michael furrowed his brows and looked into Gerry’s face. "It was for the greater good, Gerry."

Gerry returned his glance, and Michael nearly shrunk away, still a bit surprised by having those eyes looking directly at him. "I don't care. She didn't even know if it would work. If it was needed.” Gerry sighed, and mumbled, “You shouldn't say that. Michael was right. She deserved the fury."

"Well, I'm not the furious type, I think.” Michael shrugged. “I don't know. I think it burned up all my anger over the years."

"Over the years? Or when it went in for the kill?" Gerry didn’t know why he said that.

Michael thought for a moment. His voice was tentative when he spoke up again, "Even that was a lot of...frustration. The added...personal aspect was what drove it over the edge."

Gerry got a cigarette out of his pocket, mumbling, "Sounds like I should apologise for nearly getting Jon killed." He lit it. He really shouldn't have brought the conversation here. This wasn’t a relaxing conversation.

Michael looked at him for a moment before he spoke, "It wasn't your fault.” He sighed, "Don't blame yourself. Sooner or later it would have tried to kill the archivist, with or without him making its personal relationships crumble."

Gerry raised an eyebrow, "Relationships?"

His tone nearly made Michael laugh. It sounded like he couldn’t quite decide between genuine curiosity and distaste. "Well, it only really had one."

“Ah,” was Gerry’s only reaction as he continued to smoke in silence. "I'm sorry, I was trying to make you relax, not get even more tense by talking about...this."

"Its okay.” Michael smiled a little. “My life...it was quite uneventful. I don't want to bore you with it."

Gerry shook his head. "You won't. You come to be quite drawn to the mundane when you’re own life…well, isn’t."

That gave Michael an idea. "You actually don't talk much about yourself either, Gerry. Your life sounds quite a bit more exciting.” Michael considered for a moment before adding, “Well, I know it is, for a fact."

Gerry shrugged, but his interest was clearly piqued. "Well, we can take turns. We have all day.” He looked up at Michael. “What did you do before the Institute?”

"University.” Michael thought for a moment before asking, tentatively, “Did you ever knew a before the whole evil book business?”

Gerry sighed, “Well, I used to not burn them, but overall...they’ve been a part of my life since the beginning.”

His features had hardened as he spoke and Michael regretted asking. “Ah...sorry for asking.”

Gerry shook his head. “It’s fine. What did you study?”

They continued like that for a bit. Gerry kept the questions coming and Michael seemed to lose a bit of his shyness in asking back. It was a little like the walks he’d take with Michael in the hallways. Just with more coherent conversation, which was actually quite nice. 

Gerry was enjoying himself and Michael at least looked more at ease after a while as he took in his surroundings. He’d pinch his eyebrows together sometimes, as if confused by what he was seeing. For all Gerry knew he was. Michael’s explanation for how exactly things seemed  _ wrong _ wasn’t very comprehensive. 

  
  


*

  
  


They went back home when Michael had had enough and Gerry started thinking he could eat something again. Michael walked straight into the kitchen, calling back to Gerry, who was still getting out of his boots, “Do you have any wishes for lunch?”

Gerry shook his head. “No, but can I help with it?”

Michael looked surprised. “Uh, sure.”

Gerry smiled and followed into the kitchen, putting his hair up on the way. It didn’t take long for them to figure out that there wasn’t a whole lot to choose from anyways, so they went to work pretty quickly.

Gerry was cutting up some vegetables when he broke the relatively comfortable silence, “Can I ask you something?”

Michael looked up from the pan, “Hm?”

Gerry wondered how to word his question for a moment. “Did you judge my cooking skills while you were...distorted? It quite enjoyed watching me cook.”

Michael laughed, “Yes, that was partly me. But not necessarily to judge, though you do have some...questionable skills sometimes.”

Gerry laughed at how Michael somehow managed to make what would probably count as an insult sound polite. “Then what was it?”

Michael hesitated for a moment before turning to face him, “Well, I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I really liked watching you work with your hands.” He was fighting the blush creeping into his face, playing with a stray curl to distract his nerves. “I...I think that’s a general thing. It was even before. But I don’t know...there was something especially...nice about watching yours.” His voice was barely audible by the end and he had definitely failed at keeping the blush down.

Gerry watched him intently. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the words or Michael’s flustered expression that fascinated him more. But he also felt a little bad for the guy, he looked quite uncomfortable. He grinned. “I’ve heard weirder. You probably have to get a bit more creative.”

The grin Michael gave him was still a bit shy at the edges, “More creative than merging with the Distortion and spending my time watching you cook?”

Gerry laughed, “Fair.” He finished his cutting and put the vegetables in the pan, watching as Michael started stirring them. He washed his hands. 

“Do you...still like them?,” he whispered.

“Them?”

Gerry tried to sound nonchalant, but didn’t quite manage, “My hands.”

Michael stopped stirring, turning to look at him, brows furrowed, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, now they should definitely feel weird,” Gerry mumbled, looking at the scarred skin as he dried his hands. He didn’t know why he needed to know so badly.

“I don’t know who told you that. I like them.” He seemed to hesitate a moment before deciding to continue, “When you held mine? When you got me from the Institute? I...I wished you wouldn’t let go.”

“Oh.” What could Gerry even say to that? He only watched, as the colour crept back into Michael’s cheeks.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“No, it’s okay I…” He sighed, “For you, really nothing changed?”

“Well, not...not my feelings. They’re just more...in focus. Clearer, I guess.” Michael went back to stirring their food. “They don’t hurt.”

Gerry drew his eyebrows together, “They used to hurt?”

Michael nodded, “Yes, but not enough for me...for it to try to do anything about it. It was worth it. It...was happy, I think. The pain wasn’t much of a price.”

Gerry’s eyes went wide, “I...never knew.”

“It didn’t want you to know. It saw it as its version of your pain for looking at it too long.”

“That got barely noticeable after the operation, really,” Gerry mumbled and began washing the dishes to occupy his hands. 

His mind was racing. Sure, he had known Michael hurt if it tried to be too honest about its feelings, tried to put them into words. But Gerry never considered that having them in the first place might have resulted in pain. Which, in retrospect, sounded pretty obvious. Still, Gerry had apparently never thought that might be the case. 

Michael shrugged, “I didn’t notice mine much either. There was...a lot else going on. And when it thought of you...it was always the positive that came into focus.” _ It still does _ , he nearly added. But he didn’t.

Gerry really didn’t want to know, but the words were over his lips before he could catch himself, “At the end...too?”

“I-yes.” Michael had expected that to come up. He didn’t want to talk about it, though. “Even now. I’m very...fond of those memories, Gerry. It was, too, no matter how...difficult those last months were.”

“Okay,” it came out a lot more breathy than Gerry expected. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.

“What about you? Were the memories all...stained, in retrospect?” Michael had been wondering about that a lot. 

Part of him had wondered about Gerry struggling this much with Michael’s loss, considering he had pushed it away quite a bit at the end. Never for too long, but still. He hadn't expected Gerry to feel so strongly about it being gone, which was probably unfair. Gerry had tried.

Gerry thought about that, “I don’t know, I...I have tried not to think too much about it.”

Michael bit his lip, “I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay.” Gerry shook his head. He didn’t want to fall into a rabbit hole of sadness now. Things were going surprisingly well. “I’ll set the table.”

Michael nodded and went back to cooking, cursing himself for having made things awkward again. Sometimes he really wasn’t sure if his ability to hold a coherent conversation was in any way preferable to Michael’s inability to do so. He kept making things worse. Michael wasn’t very good at talking. Never had been. 

When lunch was done they ate in silence on the couch. It wasn’t awfully tense, by then, but Michael could see that Gerry was caught up in his own thoughts, so he decided not to talk himself. Which was probably for the better, anyways. It was okay, really.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic has been on my writing list for so long I get temporarily confused every time I open that list now...

Gerry started joining Michael on the couch on occasion. Or tell him not to leave it when he sat down on it himself. It felt a little like during that weird period where he had been inching closer towards Michael, noticing that it, too, seemed to be closing the space between them. 

It was just as unnerving this time, if not worse. Now Michael was easier to read, in theory, but Gerry somehow felt much more nervous about this, and he didn’t know why. 

Michael wasn’t faring any better. He was anxious, wringing his hands as he glanced over to Gerry, wondering if it would be okay to come just a little closer. He missed Gerry’s warmth a lot. He missed holding his hand. Michael wanted things to go back to how they were, but he knew he shouldn’t rush. It seemed fragile. One wrong move, and Gerry might consider it too much.

Gerry first interpreted his uncomfortable fidgeting as him having gotten too close to Michael. It took a couple times of him catching Michael’s disappointed face when Gerry backed away for him to consider he might be misunderstanding something. It took a couple more times of that for Gerry to ask.

“Michael?”

Michael still looked incredibly surprised when he said his name. He tentatively met Gerry’s eyes, unsure of what had prompted the sudden disruption of silence, “Yes?”

“Do you, uh...want to come closer?” Gerry put out his hand, hesitantly. 

Michael looked at it longingly. “I...n-not if you don’t want. I know this is...difficult.”

“It’s okay, you can come closer.” Gerry wanted to touch him again. He dreaded the new feeling just as much as he was curious about it.

Michael looked at him, still unsure, before finally taking his hand and coming closer. He wanted to let go off the hand, but Gerry laced their fingers together, caressing the back of Michael’s hand with his thumb. “You said you didn’t want me to let go...in the Institute.”

“Y-Yes, but...I saw your look, then. I-If it’s too much-”

“I’d like to get used to it. It’s...different. But still nice.” He laughed at the memory of Michael saying the same about his hands what felt like a lifetime ago. 

It still hurt to think of it, and it did feel strange to be holding Michael’s hand when it felt nothing like it, but Gerry simply tried to accept it. Michael chuckled, squeezing his hand lightly.

Gerry leaned his head against Michael’s arm, “I...missed this.”

“Me, too,” Michael whispered, leaning against Gerry.

*

  
  


It still felt awkward when they sat like that, neither quite used to it anymore. Michael’s body just didn’t bend like it used to and it just didn’t feel quite right. Sometimes that wrongness was a lot to take, a stark reminder that it would never be like it used to. 

Gerry had the same problem. He sometimes was overwhelmed with how different Michael felt and had to take a break from sitting so close, maybe take a walk or at least leave the room. Michael always feared he wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t blame him if he wouldn’t.

But he did. And sometimes a bit of time passed before he sat down next to Michael again, but he did eventually do that, too. Gerry refused to give up.

They went out somewhat regularly, too. Often it was simply a walk, but when Gerry suggested the museum once, Michael was quick to agree. He used to like it there, and, upon revisiting, was happy to find out that that still applied. 

However, he got nervous standing in the same spot looking at things for too long, though. Michael couldn’t make out if it was the lack of movement he was used to from the Spiral or if this had been a source of anxiety for him even before. He couldn’t stop wringing his hands, glancing around to see if any of the other visitors were looking at him. He was probably acting so suspicious it would be a serious surprise if nobody noticed. 

Gerry couldn’t tell what was freaking him out, but he, again, felt the urge to somehow help. After Michael answered his question about whether he wanted to leave with a no, Gerry didn’t exactly know what else to do. He followed Michael’s nervous glances, but they were random, not going to anything specific that might be the source of his nervousness. Gerry decided to take his hand, mostly to stop the wringing because it was driving him insane. To his surprise, the motion owned him a grateful smile from Michael as he visibly relaxed a little. Gerry tried to return it. It didn’t quite look right. 

Gerry still struggled with Michael’s smile. It looked so different, but just enough like it had to before for him to be reminded of Michael’s. It was beautiful in its own way, and Gerry did feel a fluttering in his stomach every time he managed to make this Michael smile, but it was one of those moments that painfully reminded him of how Michael was gone. And Gerry missed it and he still had a part of him that wished it were back, that hoped it would be back. 

Gerry wasn’t sure if it would ever stop, but he tried his best to enjoy this smile and return it. Michael squeezed his hand. He appreciated the effort.

  
  


*

  
  


They tried to make it a somewhat regular occurrence to go somewhere, which sometimes didn’t quite work out when Gerry got caught up in a Leitner hunt. Or hurt during one, for that matter. 

They had planned to go out tonight, but instead Michael was removing glasshards from Gerry’s back and trying to keep him conscious by making pointless conversation. He had been better at that when distorted. He didn’t even know what he was rambling on about, but Gerry was still occasionally giving him some noises as an answer, so he was at least still awake. Most of the cuts weren’t too deep, but it still looked like a lot of blood. 

When it came to cleaning the cuts, Gerry started flinching and hissing again, which, although quite painful to witness, was a relief to Michael. He had gotten too quiet when removing the last shards.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after Gerry let out something close to a yelp when Michael approached one of the deeper cuts.

“It’s okay,” Gerry managed through gritted teeth, “At least I could dodge the hospital visit like this.”

Michael sighed, “Maybe you should stop trying to dodge those.”

Gerry wanted to turn around to see his face, but couldn’t without pain. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me.”

“No, it’s fine I...I just worry.” Michael sighed. “I think I would worry less if I could help you,” he mumbled.

Gerry knit his brows, “You are helping me. Right now.”

Michael wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue this conversation. He had been wanting to ask for a while, but hadn’t really known how. He bit his lip nervously. “No, I mean...on the jobs.”

Gerry took a long moment to answer. He hissed as Michael moved on to the next cut, before finally saying, “Michael...it’s dangerous.”

“I know. I’ve helped you before.” Michael sighed. “And I’m currently trying to determine whether all these cuts can go without stitches. So I’m aware.”

Gerry chuckled, “Fair. But back then you could make convenient doors to escape every situation. Now you’d be stuck there with me.”

To Gerry’s surprise, Michael still insisted, “I could still try to have your back.”

“I have my own back just fine. Have been doing so for quite a while.”

Michael scoffed, “I’m looking at it right now and it really begs to differ.”

Gerry sighed, “I’ve had worse.”

Michael took the bandages he had gotten ready and started wrapping them around Gerry’s back, “That does nothing for making me back down from wanting to try and help you _not_ having worse in the future, Gerry.”

Gerry was starting to believe that nothing he’d say could make Michael reconsider his idea. And he truly hated that idea. It had been fine with Michael before. Gerry knew that it’d be a challenge to hurt it from own experience, so it had been okay. But this Michael was very much human. Hell, he had burnt his fingers cooking the night before and Gerry knew they were still red, he’d seen it when Michael helped him get to the bathroom. 

This Michael would break and tear much easier. And Gerry didn’t trust himself keeping him safe.

He tried, “I can’t guarantee your safety, Michael.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Michael shrugged. “I kind of died twice already. It’s losing the fright.”

Gerry flinched at that. He didn’t like that line of thinking at all. “I don’t want you to die for good because of one of those books.”

“I don’t want you to die because of them, either. And Gerry, I remember the times I helped you. Some of those...if it hadn’t been for me, I’m not sure we’d be here right now.” Michael willed his hand to stop shaking. His voice was already doing enough of that. “I hate being stuck waiting for you to maybe come back, unable to help. I know I’m not...powerful. The way I used to be. But I...please let me try.” Michael was glad Gerry couldn’t see the tears gathering in his eyes.

Gerry took a deep breath. Michael had a point, of course. It’s one thing to know Gerry is gone on a possibly deadly mission when you’re a monster who always seems to know where he is and when he might need help. It’s another thing to have to rely on waiting for Gerry to come home. Gerry had noticed that Michael was always awake when he did, even if it was the middle of the night or after sunrise. He never looked like he slept and the relief on his face when he saw Gerry was a lot to take. 

Gerry didn’t want him to have to worry like that. They could give it a try, right? Gerry should be able to keep an eye on him. Sometimes he had to do so with bystanders already. Not his favourite thing to do, but he was sure he could manage. He could try, at least. 

Gerry nodded. “Okay. We can try it out.”

Michael stopped in his tracks, surprised. He hadn’t expected Gerry to agree, had been too nervous to bring it up because he was sure it would be pointless. He felt a surge of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said softly, finishing the bandaging.

“Sure.” Gerry sighed. He sounded tired. He _felt_ tired. “Are you done?”

“I am.” Michael watched his work for a moment. The skin around the bandages was starting to bruise. “You should get some rest, I’ll clean up the mess.”

Gerry carefully got up, holding on to Michael’s arm to steady himself for a moment. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “And good night.” 

He squeezed Michael’s arm gently, giving him a tired smile, before he made his way out of the bathroom. Michael watched him, nervous about his wonky steps. He followed to the door, watching to see if Gerry would make it to the bedroom without falling. Gerry did, and Michael sighed, relieved, before going back to clean up the bathroom. 

He felt strangely excited about Gerry agreeing to his suggestion. Michael hadn’t felt very useful since being human again. When he got to the couch after cleaning, the excitement kept him awake for a while, but he didn’t mind. It was better than being kept awake by nightmares.

  
  


*

  
  


Of course, Gerry was in no state to go hunt any books in the next weeks. But he had been following up on some leads for the next one, so Michael helped with that. Gerry had forgotten that Michael used to do this before he was fed to the Spiral and was briefly impressed by how much quicker things went with his help. Well, he still was impressed when he did remember. 

Gerry wasn’t used to working on eye level with somebody else. Even when he had partnered up with anyone, he had done all the work he could himself, knowing very well to not trust the other party any more than necessary. But he did trust Michael and Michael seemed incredibly happy doing research. Gerry could imagine him looking like that in the archive, following up statements for Gertrude, young and eager to please. 

It was easy to picture, but it just reminded Gerry of how his eagerness was used against him in the end, so he stopped, and went back to the file he was reading instead. It was difficult to not let his eyes wander to Michael who was half-laying on the couch table to reach the notebook since he somehow managed to spread out his notes and files all over the place, tapping himself and Gerry in their spots unless they dared to upset the piles of paper.

Michael knew where everything was, and Gerry wasn’t planning to move anytime soon anyways, so he didn’t comment on the rather messy picture. He briefly wondered how his desk must have looked at the Institute. Wondered if he had worn his hair in a messy bun, stubborn curls constantly freeing themselves from it and falling into his face or standing up into all directions. He looked a little mad like that. He looked a whole lot of cute, too. Gerry was smiling at the files in his hand. 

  
  


*

  
  


When Gerry could finally move more or less without pain, they decided to go for the book. Michael was clearly nervous, only more so after Gerry gave him one of his knives, just in case. But he pushed through. Going against his flight instinct wasn’t new to him, and he wanted this to work. He wanted Gerry to see that he could help.

In the end, things went surprisingly smoothly. Michael didn’t even need to use the knife. They were in and out of the building quickly - Michael’s height was definitely convenient to reach some of the higher windows - and when they were watching the book burning, Michael relaxed. He knew it didn’t always go like this, but he was thankful it had this time. Gerry was still somewhat sore and looked quite satisfied with how things went down, too.

“That wasn’t too bad, I guess,” he mumbled when the book was ashes, the lingering warmth of the fire quickly taken by the night’s chill.

Michael beamed at him, “It wasn’t.”

Gerry’s heart skipped when he looked up to meet his eyes, sparkling in the low light of the alley. This hadn’t been the expression he’d expected to see on Michael’s face, even with this going so smoothly. Not with how anxious he had been when they left the apartment. But Gerry wasn’t going to complain. It was a nice expression to look at, and he smiled.

“Home, then?” He held out his hand.

Michael nodded and took his hand. “Sounds good.”

Michael breathed in the crisp night air when they were out of the alley, looking up at the sky. He hadn’t been outside in the dead of night in a long time. It was weirdly calming. The streets were pretty much empty and dimly lit, the air cool but not unpleasant, especially not after the stress of getting the book. He even managed to spot some stars.

“There’s even stars tonight…,” he mumbled to himself.

“There’s always stars. London’s just a shit place to see them,” Gerry murmured, cigarette already between his teeth.

Michael looked back at Gerry, who was trying to light his cigarette one-handed without much success, considering the breeze kept putting out the flame. Michael squeezed his hand for a moment before letting it go so he could figure the lighter out. 

“So I heard. I don’t really have anything to compare it to, though.” He shrugged, “Well, unless you count pictures of the starry sky, I guess...but I could never quite believe it could really look like that from anywhere.”

Gerry looked at him with such a shocked expression Michael wondered if he had said something wrong. “You’ve never been outside London? Middle of nowhere, out in the country?”

Michael shook his head. “Not as a human, at least. And well...things don’t quite look the same now.” He leaned his head to the side curiously, “Is that where you get the nice starry sky pictures from?”

Gerry shook his head, clearly still having trouble believing what he was hearing. “We need to change that.”

“We...do?” Michael furrowed his brows in confusion.

Gerry nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He finally managed to light the cigarette and took Michael’s hand again, face thoughtful. Michael decided not to push it and simply enjoyed the walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	13. Chapter 13

Michael wasn’t too bad of a company for the hunts, overall. He was a little clumsy with the knife when he did reach for it - the first cut he got on one of their hunts was self-inflicted - but he persisted and did get better, though his hands never really stopped shaking. 

Michael also was very observant - or just permanently on edge, Gerry sometimes couldn’t tell the difference - and having an extra pair of ears or eyes turned out helpful more than once. He also was careful, sometimes a bit too much for Gerry’s taste, when he ended up coming up with a much more complicated, elaborate plan than Gerry’s ‘get it. get out’. 

If they followed Michael’s plans, that always considered all kinds of details Gerry considered quite irrelevant, they tended to take longer. However, they also tended to come out less bruised, which Gerry wasn’t going to complain about.

With work and their occasional dates, Gerry felt like they were getting a hang of how to deal with each other. Michael was still somewhat out of it, the time in the Distortion clinging to him, making him disoriented about the most random things sometimes. Gerry felt bad for not having noticed before. Michael sometimes needed to be snapped out of it, brought back into reality when he got lost trying to determine which memories of his were right or wrong, which aligned with the things he was seeing and which didn’t. 

In general, Gerry grew more comfortable with Michael, the rather confusing feelings he had had every time he looked at him slowly turning into something a bit more streamlined. Gerry liked him. 

There was a lot of Michael that was very much like Michael before, which he guessed made sense. Michael had been a distorted version of this Michael after all. He was still very much eager to help - sometimes a little too eager when he ended up pulling some reckless stunt during one of the hunts. But it was okay. They had fallen into a routine of patching each other up. This Michael was better at that than the one before. 

Gerry didn’t like to dwell on the similarities and differences he noticed too much. It felt...unfair to constantly be comparing them. He liked them both. He probably even loved them both. Or him. Gerry was still unsure if he could even count them as completely separate entities. He didn’t like to dwell on that, either. It didn’t really matter. 

Sometimes it was still difficult not to compare, though. Gerry was getting used to the face and the voice. It was Michael’s, and the dull ache he still felt sometimes when he smiled or laughed was something Gerry had made peace with. It didn’t send him spiralling into sadness every time anymore. 

But sometimes the similarities - or differences - still got to him. That’s why he froze the day he came back from running some errands to the scent of cinnamon coming from the kitchen. There was soft humming coming from it, too, which meant Michael hadn’t heard the door. He always stopped singing when Gerry was within earshot, no matter how many times Gerry told him he really didn’t mind. When Gerry arrived at the kitchen, Michael was washing dishes, a baking tray of cinnamon rolls cooling on the stove.

“Michael?”

Michael jumped, turning to look at Gerry. “Y-You’re back early.”

“You made cinnamon rolls?” He nodded towards the tray, face blank.

Michael nodded, wringing his hands. He had been wanting to for a while, but had been conflicted about whether it was a good idea. Reminding Gerry of the distorted Michael was always a gamble. Sometimes he would smile fondly, maybe a little sadly. But sometimes his face fell and Michael knew it would take a while for him to find his way out of his sad reverie. It was hard to tell when what would happen. 

But Michael knew Gerry loved cinnamon rolls and he had been wanting to try and make some himself for a while. Looking at Gerry’s conflicted face now, he wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea to finally do so.

“Was that...a bad idea?,” he asked tentatively, watching Gerry’s face carefully.

For a moment Michael was sure Gerry might start crying when he covered his face with his hands. Instead, it was a chuckle that escaped his lips. It sounded broken, though, and Michael stepped closer, hands hovering in the air as guilt settled in his stomach. He should have asked Gerry if this was okay, if this wouldn’t be too much.

Gerry was fairly sure this had been, indeed, a bad idea. He was hurting like he hadn’t in a while, not even at night, a sharp pain somewhere deep within that was taking his breath away. But he was also feeling a very familiar warmth, something he hadn’t really felt this intensely since Michael had gone. He had missed it.

“Michael, I love you,” he choked out because it was getting too much to stay silent, Gerry felt he might burst trying and he had to try and put  _ something _ of the whirring thoughts in his head into words. 

Gerry heard Michael breathe in sharply, shocked, and when he finally looked up he saw that Michael was closer than he had been, grey eyes big, surprise as clear on his features as concern and, maybe, a sliver of hope.

Michael was afraid to say anything, but he couldn’t find the answers he needed in Gerry’s teary eyes. “W-What…?”

Gerry rubbed at his eyes, laughing, “I’m sorry, I...I’m a mess.” He took a steadying breath before meeting Michael’s eyes again. “I love you.” Michael still looked uncertain, and Gerry wished he could just let him read his mind or something, because this didn’t even cover half of what was going on, but it was the most important to Gerry right now, and he wanted Michael to understand. 

Gerry took his hands in his and squeezed them, enjoying the smooth, warm skin against his own. “I love you, Michael.” Gerry had no doubts about which Michael he was talking about right now. He loved Michael before. He still loved him now. “I love  _ you _ .”

Michael’s eyes had dropped to their hands when Gerry took them, and he stared as the words sank in, slowly breaking through the ‘I must have misheard’s and ‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying’s Michael had clung to protect himself from the inevitable pain when Gerry clarified that he meant something else, that he didn’t mean it at all, that those words weren’t meant for Michael as he was now, but for Michael as he had been. 

Gerry’s voice sounded very clear, though, and warm in a way Michael vaguely remembered it sounding, fond and Michael still remembered struggling to return those sentiments, knowing it couldn’t do it as straightforward as Gerry did, hoping Gerry would get it from all the other things it did and said. There were no such restrictions anymore. 

Michael looked back up to meet Gerry’s eyes, that were still glistening with tears, but also crinkling slightly at the edges, and Michael wouldn’t mind drowning in them like this, warm and soft. There was always a shadow in them now, a sadness Michael could vaguely fathom, and it was still there but it didn’t take away from the overwhelming giddy warmth Michael felt when looking into them. He smiled, squeezing Gerry’s hands back gently.

“I love you, too.” He couldn’t help the chuckle escaping him. “I can say that, now.”

Gerry chuckled, too, and pulled him into his arms, into a hug that was probably a bit too tight to really be comfortable, but Michael didn’t complain. He returned it, burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder. He barely noticed the stray joyful tears he was crying into Gerry’s shirt. Michael felt Gerry loosen the hug a little, felt one arm uncoil and move to run through Michael’s hair instead. Michael smiled, pressing Gerry closer.

It could have been minutes or hours they spend like that, weeks or months for Michael, who still struggled with time in general sometimes, but he relished every moment, let himself indulge and enjoy. He hadn’t expected this. Even when Gerry told him he wanted to try from the start - kind of - Michael had been convinced his boring mundanity would just put Gerry off and he’d still lose him, just for a different reason. Michael allowed himself to forget that, for now. It was easy to forget with Gerry’s arms wrapped around him like this.

“Michael?” It felt like an eternity had passed when Gerry broke the silence but at the same time, it felt like mere minutes.

“Yes?”

“The cinnamon scent is driving me insane, can we try them?”

Michael laughed, and it felt wonderful to have him laugh against him like this. Gerry felt his laughter more than he heard it, and wondered at how it somehow felt just as amazing as it sounded. 

“So, that’s what it takes to drive you insane? Some cinnamon?” He straightened up enough to look at Gerry again, amusement in his eyes. It looked good on him.

Gerry grinned, wiping the remnants of tears of Michael’s cheeks. “Would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”

Michael chuckled, brushing Gerry’s hair behind his ear, “What do you want to drink?”

“I think I need some tea to calm down,” Gerry sighed, tilting his head a little, chasing the fleeting brush of Michael’s fingers against his ear. It looked endearing, and Michael had to control the urge to kiss him yet again. He didn’t want to destroy this.

“I think I could do with the same,” he said, smiling and stepping away from the hug to put on the kettle. 

Gerry’s eyes lingered on him as the disappointment of the loss of touch settled over him, before they wandered back to the baking tray, still in the same place, untouched. They did smell really good.

Michael grinned as he turned around to find Gerry eyeing the rolls. “You don’t have to wait for the tea, you know. Try one. It was my first time making them, who knows if they taste nearly as good as they smell.”

“Oh, it would be disappointing if they didn’t…,” Gerry mumbled, taking one of the still warm rolls and biting into it. Michael watched him curiously. He had seen Gerry bite into cinnamon rolls so many times, the familiarity of the view put a soft smile on his face.

Gerry looked very pleased as he chewed. “It’s so good!”

“I’m glad,” Michael chuckled as he made their tea.

Suddenly, Gerry had a realisation, “Actually, does...do you taste food differently now, too?”

Michael looked back at him, confused. “Uh, yes. I didn’t really taste it when I was part of the Spiral it was...I don’t know. It never really aligned with what I knew it should taste. It was...out of reach?”

Gerry had no clue what that meant, but that went for most things Michael told him about his time as the Spiral. He held out the cinnamon roll he had just bitten into, “Then try it. It’s even better than the store-bought ones.” He furrowed his brows. “In case you even liked those before merging with the Spiral...”

“I did. I...I think at least,” Michael mumbled, unsure if he had any specific memories about his opinion on cinnamon rolls from before the Distortion. He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on it. 

Thinking too hard about what memories he possessed and which were wrong was never a good idea. Instead, he took a bite out of the cinnamon roll in Gerry’s hand. He hummed as the pleasant, sweet taste hit his tongue. They  _ were _ good.

Gerry watched his face, part of him expecting that inexplicable expression he still remembered so clearly from whenever Michael would taste something to its liking. That’s not what he got, though. Michael’s face looked quite obviously satisfied with the taste, maybe even a little positively surprised. 

Somehow, Gerry was both disappointed by the lack of that expression and amazed by instead being given something so easily readable to him. It was a short moment of conflict, of trying to decide on which to focus on, but Gerry managed to smile, finishing the roll himself. 

There was something exciting to learning Michael’s new reactions and expressions. The fact that it was accompanied by a sense of loss was simply something Gerry had to deal with, he guessed. He should be able to miss something while at the same time liking the new. Not in a sense that it was better, but just good in a different way. 

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he would start believing it at some point.

Michael was moving the cinnamon rolls to a plate and Gerry decided to take the mugs and move to the couch. Michael followed not too long later and they curled up together, much like they used to, except Michael was now bound to physics, too. They figured something out and got comfortable just fine, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea how cinnamon rolls ended up being such A Thing, I only put them in because I was craving them but unable to get any. Then they just kind of...took over.


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a close one tonight. They had carefully planned to retrieve the Leitner without running into anyone or anything, but of course, that wasn’t what happened. Well, it was, kind of. They managed to avoid actually running into anyone, but it took a lot longer than expected to get back out of the building after they had managed to grab the book. It was a bit more nerve wracking than initially planned, and they both collapsed unto the couch as soon as they made it back from burning the book. 

Gerry was zoning out completely by now, and one thought kept creeping back again and again. One that had started to manifest earlier, when he had been pressed against the wall by Michael, who had somehow heard the steps approaching before Gerry. Gerry hadn’t questioned it - it wasn’t the first time Michael noticed something earlier than him - but it had been the first time Gerry looked up to see him chewing his lower lip in the dim light. 

His face had been so close, white teeth - Gerry registered the fact that they were no longer pointy somewhere in the back of his mind - gently biting down on his lip. It gave way under them, looking incredibly soft, and Gerry had forgotten about the chill he had been feeling a moment before, and, for a moment, about the book in his coat, too. 

He did snap himself out of it before doing anything stupid, but the image was hard to forget, and Gerry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how Michael’s lips would feel. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t kissed him before. He seemingly had forgotten that option in the frenzy of trying to figure his feelings out. 

Well, he was very aware of it now. His head was resting against Michael’s arm and he only had to shift his head a little to glance at his face, his lips. They looked so inviting. Gerry had no idea how he had missed that until now.

Gerry licked his lips. "Michael?"

"Hm?", Michael mumbled and opened his eyes. 

Cloudy grey, as always. Gerry was getting used to it. There was something thrilling about knowing what he would see, of watching the colour shift depending on the light. And it didn’t even hurt to look at them for long, to watch them intently as light played with them, turning them dark, but never black, or light, nearly white.

But right now, Gerry’s eyes were hanging on his lips instead.

"Uhm...do you-” Gerry sat up, trying to push away the image of those lips for a moment. Just to remember how to speak. “I mean...I'd like to kiss you, if...that would be okay with you."

Michael uncoiled himself, sitting up a little straighter, too, and looked at Gerry, uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Gerry looked at him and nodded, "Yes.”

Michael bit his lip and Gerry focused on his eyes instead. He was definitely focusing on his eyes.

"I'm just...worried,” Michael mumbled, looking away.

“About?”

“What...what if you don’t like it? I...I’m different, now. It won’t feel the same.”

“I’m aware.” He touched Michael’s cheek, waiting for him to look at him. “If one of us doesn’t like it, we’ll just stop.” He shrugged. “If you don’t want to that’s okay, though.”

Michael had wanted to kiss Gerry from the moment he had seen his face in the Institute. He hadn’t done so, of course, despite the urge never disappearing. He remembered kissing Gerry, remembered the feeling of his lips, but he knew it wasn’t accurate anymore, knew it would feel different now. 

He was afraid of that, mostly afraid of Gerry not liking it at all, but also about  _ him _ not liking it. Gerry’s lips had been his favourite thing to taste for so long, the closest he had come to focus when he was the Spiral, and the idea that they might taste any less than what he remembered was terrifying.

But the urge to kiss him never stopped, no matter what. No matter how many times Michael tried to tell himself that it was probably better to cling to the memories and live with those. Michael was fairly sure he did a lousy job of not being caught watching Gerry’s lips move when he spoke sometimes, trying to remember more details about how they felt, tasted, so his mind would finally be satisfied and stop craving to feel and taste them again. It only made it worse.

He swallowed. "I...I want to kiss you, too."

He moved a little closer, eyes fixed on Gerry’s face in case he changed his mind. It could only be a disappointment for him. It would remind him of the fact that Michael could never be the Michael he missed. Michael knew that Gerry knew that. But Gerry held his gaze as Michael closed the final gap, pressing his lips to Gerry’s. 

Michael froze for a moment, because part of him had made peace with never feeling those lips again, but there they were. He felt Gerry smile against his lips before he kissed back, sweetly, hands coming up to cradle Michael’s face.

Michael felt the sting of tears and closed his eyes, moving closer to wrap his arms around Gerry’s neck, to deepen the kiss, doubts forgotten because Gerry was pulling him closer, too, and not pushing him away, and his lips were still chapped, as they had been, but Michael felt them -  _ tasted _ them - so much more clearly, and Michael wasn’t sure he ever wanted to stop. 

While he had been part of the Spiral, there had always been so much else going on inside him, inside his mind, at the same time, and while Gerry’s kisses had still been intoxicating, he felt like he was truly feeling the extent of that for the first time now, gooseflesh spreading on his arms as Gerry’s lips parted slightly against his.

Tentatively, Michael ran his tongue over Gerry’s lower lip. Gerry froze, and Michael instantly drew back. "I'm sorry, was that, uh...too much?"

Gerry licked his lips, disappointed at the lack of contact. "No, I just…," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, "I kind of...forgot that you’re human for a moment. With...with a human tongue. I was...surprised.” 

His face was definitely red by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not with the lingering feeling of Michael’s lips on his own. It  _ did _ feel different, but Gerry was incredibly disappointed they stopped so quickly. He didn’t dislike it at all.

Now Michael was the one who froze, feeling like everything was coming crashing down again. Michael just wasn't what Gerry wanted and it had been stupid to think that might somehow not be the case. "Oh I'm...I'm sorry-"

"What?” Gerry looked at him, confused. “That wasn’t a complaint, Michael, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I…” He sighed. “As much as I loved whatever Michael called a tongue, I could never quite rid myself of that last sliver of revulsion against how...alien...it felt? I was bracing myself for that again and was just...surprised. When it didn't...happen, I guess. Not in a bad way, though. Just...well, different.”

Michael was having trouble following, but Gerry’s tone, at least, didn’t sound upset. 

Maybe part of why he was having trouble following was because Michael couldn’t quite look away from Gerry’s lips as they moved.

A grin played on them as Gerry spoke again, “Kiss me again?”

Michael looked at his eyes, still uncertain. "But are you sure-"

"Very," Gerry breathed, pulling him closer again, pressing their lips together.

When Gerry opened his mouth this time, Michael didn’t hesitate and slid his tongue through. Gerry gasped, this time expecting the unfamiliar sensation, but still surprised by the actual feel and taste, the lack of numbing static as he slid his tongue against Michael’s, sucked on it. 

Gerry was obsessed with actually being able to taste Michael’s mouth without the static numbing his own, and he pulled him into his lap, angling his head for better access, tongue mapping out Michael’s mouth.

Michael steadied himself, hands on Gerry’s shoulders, wandering up to trace Gerry’s neck, his jaw. Gerry hummed at the gentle touch, his own hands finding their way under the hem of Michael’s sweater, brushing his lower back with his fingertips. 

Michael's breath hitched in his throat and Gerry broke the kiss, but didn't get to pull away very far as Michael pressed their foreheads together. Gerry looked up into his eyes. Now they nearly looked black, a pretty contrast to his flushed cheeks and pink lips, kiss-swollen and glistening. 

Gerry licked his lips and splayed out his fingers on Michael’s back, moving them up slowly. He watched as Michael sighed and leaned into the touch, arching his back slightly as his eyelids fluttered close, golden lashes painting shadows against his red cheeks. Gerry forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered and Michael’s eyes opened again, meeting his and Gerry knew what he’d say before he spoke.

“So are you.” Michael smiled and brushed his lips against Gerry’s before kissing his jaw, his neck, fingers digging gently into his biceps. 

Gerry hummed and dragged his nails gently down Michael’s back, making Michael shiver under his fingers. It was nearly enough to distract Gerry from what he wanted to ask, especially the feeling of Michael’s teeth against his neck. 

He did give up on trying to form a whole sentence. 

“Michael? Bed?,” he breathed out, shuddering as Michael’s tongue ran over the spot where his neck and shoulder connected.

Michael chuckled, breath hot against Gerry’s neck, “Sounds good.” 

He pressed another kiss against Gerry’s neck before getting up from Gerry’s lap. Gerry got up, too, taking Michael’s hand and pulling him into the bedroom.

Michael barely had time to wonder about the fact that he hadn’t actually been in this room since being human again before Gerry pulled him down into another kiss. They somehow managed to make it to the actual bed without interrupting their kiss and Gerry gently pushed Michael into the sheets, straddling his hips. They were both panting when they finally broke the kiss, but Gerry was too impatient to wait for his breathing to calm down before speaking this time. 

He pressed his forehead against Michael’s, locking eyes. “Do you remember what I told you the first time?”

Michael took a moment, mind not wanting to think about anything but the fact that Gerry’s lips were tantalizingly close, about the weight of him on his hips. But he nodded, after a moment. He hadn’t let any of his memories with Gerry slip away, had been holding on to them desperately. 

“Yes.”

“Good. Still applies, okay?”

Michael smiled, “Okay.”

Gerry returned the smile and sat up to take off his shirt, before capturing Michael’s lips in another kiss.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry hadn’t thought about having Michael Shelley in his bed and what that’d entail. Michael wasn’t unraveling under his mouth and fingers - or he was, but in a distinctly human way, one that didn’t make him lose his shape and adapt an array of different colours and patterns in its place. Michael’s body was  _ consistent _ now, which was a word Gerry never thought to use to describe Michael. 

When Gerry found a particularly sensitive spot that drew the most beautiful little noises from Michael’s lips, he half-expected it to be gone, or simply someplace else when he came for it again, but it was still there, and Michael still whimpered when Gerry dragged his nails over the sensitive skin. 

Michael didn’t change, which meant Gerry could kiss every mole and freckle, every scar and they would still be there if he wanted to kiss them again which was exhilarating, enthralling, and Gerry was caught between wanting to take his time to learn, to map out Michael’s new body, but also not having the patience to do so with Michael’s nails digging into his back, the shivers, the noises falling from his lips at every touch, urging Gerry on.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry was already starting to drift off, arms wrapped around Michael, chest pressed against his smooth back. Michael, too, felt like he was calming down. Until he started wriggling out of Gerry’s grip. Gerry reluctantly let go.

"Where you going?," Gerrys mumbled, already missing the warmth.

Michael turned to look at him, uncertain. "Uh, to...the couch? To sleep?"

Gerry knit his brows in confusion. "What? Why? If you need some space, I think the bed’s big eno-”

"Oh no, I...I just...assumed? I know you…" How was he going to explain that he knew nights were the hardest on Gerry? That that's when the memories came and brought the tears? "I just didn't want to...intrude."

"Well you aren't. I was very comfortable just now.” Gerry had to stifle a yawn. “So, unless you aren't comfortable with this, you’re more than welcome to sleep here."

Michael hesitated, "Are you sure?"

Gerry didn’t really understand Michael’s reluctance. Maybe he was too tired to get the worried glance. He didn’t necessarily look like he  _ wanted _ to leave. Just really worried about the idea of staying, for some reason. 

Gerry rubbed at his eye and mumbled, “Of course.”

Michael still looked at him slightly worried for a moment before laying back down. Michael hadn’t wanted to go. He had indulged himself for as long as he could before he feared he might fall asleep, complicating things for Gerry. But if Gerry was so sure, Michael was hard pressed to force himself out of bed.

Gerry wrapped his strong arms around him again, pulling him flush against his warm body, and Michael sighed, closing his eyes. Absentmindedly, Michael put his hand on Gerry’s, lacing their fingers together. Gerry hummed into his shoulder, or maybe it was a mumbled ‘good night’, but Michael was already drifting off to sleep, unsure if his own ‘sleep well’ even made it over his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter I had to edit twice because I somehow managed to miss half the first time and if there's still any typos or something in this that'd just be extra embarassing, but also just very me.
> 
> also I went overboard with that kiss probably, but you know what, sometimes I just have to give in to my dramatic tendencies.


	15. Chapter 15

Gerry understood Michaels concerns in the morning when he woke up, mind still hazy with sleep, and his heart leaped into his throat when all he saw was blond curls. His heart was pounding in excitement without him really understanding why. It wasn't that rare for Michael to spend the night. 

Except, he realised as his brain slowly caught up with reality, Michael was no more. His heart shattered and he was sobbing before he could even think about stopping it. He tried to keep it down but considering he was still very much hugging Michael against him he wasn't particularly surprised when the blond shifted and turned around in his arms. His drowsy eyes cleared the moment he saw the tears on Gerry’s face. They filled with worry instead and he brought one hand to rest against Gerry’s wet cheek. 

"Gerry? What happened?" Michael remembered Gerry’s nightmares, of course, but something seemed to be different about his expression right now. He looked too awake, too aware for it to be lingering nightmares.

"I'm so sorry, I-,” Gerry didn’t manage to finish as another sob interrupted him and he buried his face in his hands.

"Shhh, it's okay.", Michael wrapped his arms around Gerry and pulled him into a tight hug, letting him bury his face in his shoulder and cry into it. Michael’s mind was racing, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep to figure out what could be wrong. 

"I shouldn’t...I love you, please believe me, I do, I just-,” another sob, “I shouldn't be crying for it...m-missing it...I, I do love you-"

Of course. Michael had let himself indulge a little too much. He had forgotten why he had been hesitant to sleep in bed last night. 

"Gerry, those aren't mutually exclusive,” he said, softly, “You're allowed to miss it. I know you loved it. I...I also know you love me. It's...I know this is difficult.” He sighed, gently brushing Gerry’s hair as another sob shook him. “Should I go?”

"Don't!” Gerry’s eyes were filled with panic when he looked up at Michael. Seeing his face just made him sob more, but he pressed on, “Please don’t leave,” he sniffed, trying to force the tears to stop and wiping at his eyes, “I, I'll try my best to...to get used to it. I won't...I’ll try not to cry...every morning-” he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking stop sobbing, but he forced himself to plead, “I'll get used to it. J-Just...just please don't leave, I-"

Now Michael was panicking, “Gerry, that’s not how I meant it!” Michael brushed the hair sticking to Gerry’s face away, trying to meet his eyes, “I...I meant me going into the kitchen so you can calm down or something! S-So you don’t have to...look at me. I’m not...I’m not leaving.” Gerry was still sobbing violently, and Michael didn’t know if he could even hear. 

Michael took his face into his hands and pressed their foreheads together, waiting until Gerry’s eyes met his. “Hey, do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”

He still couldn’t tell whether Gerry was hearing him because he the next thing Gerry pressed out between sobs was, "I...I have to get used to it."

Michael shook his head, "That's nonsense. You don't have to do anything, Gerry. Even If you wake up every morning crying, you'll have my shoulder to cry on. I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to.” He ran his fingers through Gerry’s hair, looking at him insistently, “And it's okay. You don't have it try and swallow your feelings for it. I...I know. And it's okay. You don't have to hide from me." 

Of course it hurt to see Gerry like this, and maybe it stung a little knowing that the tears were shed for someb- something else who Gerry cared about, but it didn't change the fact that Gerry looked at him warmly and laughed with him and held him and loved him. Gerry could miss what he lost and still love him and it was fine. 

Michael wanted to be there for him and hold him through it if he wanted, and try to help to make the pain more bearable. He didn't require Gerry to deny and bury what he felt for his sake. He didn’t  _ want _ Gerry to feel like he had to pretend that he had forgotten about Michael. That would hurt Michael as he was now, too, because he still cherished the memories of their time then. He didn’t want Gerry to feel like he had to give those up for him.

But Michael didn’t really know how to  _ say _ all of that, so he watched, desperately hoping to find some light of understanding in Gerry’s eyes, hoping that what he  _ had _ said was enough.

It took a moment, but Michael found what he wanted and Gerry’s eyes widened as he began to process those words. Michael smiled gently, pressing a kiss to Gerry’s forehead. Gerry swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Thank you,” was what he settled on, and it sounded so weak to his ears, not nearly enough to convey what he was feeling. 

But Michael still pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and letting Gerry press his face against his chest. He could feel Michael’s heartbeat, probably still a little too quick, but calmer than Gerry’s, and Gerry tried to focus on it, tried to make his own match, to breathe without choking on sobs. He wrapped his arms around Michael, clutching onto him, feeling the smooth skin gently give way as he buried his fingers into Michael’s back. 

Michael was brushing his fingers through Gerry’s hair and Gerry closed his eyes, trying to focus on Michael and nothing else. Neither of them knew how much time passed before Gerry was calm again, tears still drying on his face - and now on Michael’s chest, too - but breathing regular and heartbeat steady.

He took a deep sigh, “I don’t deserve you.”

Michael wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. “You do.” He gently pushed Gerry away, just enough to be able to look him in the face. “And even if you didn’t, I’d be hard pressed to care. I love you.” 

Gerry looked up at him, surprised, before chuckling and shaking his head. “I love you, too. I really do.”

“I know,” Michael smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of Gerry’s nose. “Should I start breakfast?”

Gerry smiled back. “I think I’ll take a shower.”

“Probably should take one, too…,” Michael mused.

Gerry grinned, brushing a curl behind Michael’s hair before sitting up, “I’d suggest joining me, but I think that’d get cramped.”

Michael giggled, “I’ll just go after breakfast, it’s fine.”

Gerry looked at him for another moment, head pillowed in his own wild hair, eyes crinkling as he smiled up at him. He looked happy. Gerry wanted him to look like that always. Gently, he brushed his fingers over Michael’s cheek before finally getting out of bed and leaving the room.

Michael stayed in bed a few more minutes, smiling at the ceiling, before getting up himself.

  
  


*

  
  


As usual, they took their breakfast to the couch to eat. Michael’s pillow and duvet were still propped onto one of the armrests when they sat down. 

Gerry eyed them. “Michael? Do you want to sleep in bed from now on?”

“I mean...if you don’t mind.” He was back to sounding shy. Gerry was always impressed how he somehow fell back into it no matter what.

“If you don’t mind me sobbing every morning.” It was only a half-joke, genuine worry slipping into his voice. Michael kept saying he knew how difficult this was. But Gerry imagined it wasn’t easy for him, either. 

Michael shook his head, “You don’t even know if it’ll be that bad. But no, I don’t mind. If it gets too much for either….well, the couch is still here.”

Gerry chuckled, “Maybe I should take it the next time.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house, Gerry.” Michael sounded genuinely upset about the very idee, making Gerry’s chuckle turn into laughter.

“Okay, okay. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Or if we get to it.” He leaned against Michael’s arm, sighing. Michael pressed his lips to his forehead before continuing to eat.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry thankfully didn’t have such a breakdown every morning. Often it was just a short, sharp pain before he understood why Michael didn’t look quite right. And many nights, he woke up to Michael crying before mornings could even attempt to make Gerry break down. 

The first time he had woken up confused about what it was that woke him. It was still dark, and he himself didn’t seem to have woken up from any nightmares. It was silent. Or so it seemed, at first. Michael barely made any noise and it took Gerry a moment to realise his hand - the one Gerry was holding - was shaking. When he turned to look at him, Gerry realised Michael in general was shaking, shoulders tense and knees pulled to his chest. He was clearly trying not to be loud, but now Gerry could hear him struggling to breathe.

“Michael?,” Gerry whispered sitting up slowly, careful not to spook him.

Michael froze, and let go of Gerry’s hand to wipe at his eyes. Not that Gerry could see much with his face being mostly covered by his hair. “Why are you awake?” Michael was making a valiant attempt at sounding fine, but Gerry heard the waver in his voice.

“You’re crying.” Gerry touched his shoulder. 

Michael shook his head, “It’s okay, Gerry. I...just a bad...dream.”

He didn’t sound like ‘dream’ was what he had wanted to say. “Do you want to talk about it?” Gerry was carefully brushing blond curls out of Michael’s face. It was blotchy and red, even in the low city light coming from outside the window.

With a sigh, Michael uncoiled himself, rolling unto his back, red eyes meeting Gerry’s. “I don’t...I don’t think you want to hear that, Gerry.”

Gerry furrowed his brows. “It’s not dreams, is it?”

Michael shook his head. “Well, maybe? Sometimes...sometimes it’s hard to tell. I…” Michael sighed, leaning into Gerry’s hand as it kept brushing his hair, “I’m fairly sure it’s memories. T-too much detail. I...don’t know if they’re all accurate or if some of it is...dream.”

Gerry nodded. That was how his nightmares tended to be, too. It’s what made it so bad to him. Waking up and having to work through what was real and what wasn’t, trying to sort through everything so he could breathe again.

“Why do you say I wouldn’t want to hear about it?” Gerry had a hunch. 

Michael had been struggling with sleep since he brought him home, Gerry knew. He had considered saying something a couple times, but in the end he wasn’t really sure if Michael would appreciate it. And maybe part of Gerry was simply afraid of what he might hear. 

Michael watched him for a long moment, contemplating whether he should speak or not. He knew Gerry well enough. If Michael only alluded to what it was, Gerry would get curious despite himself, despite absolutely not wanting to know, and still push. Michael wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. But he was too tired to lie. And there was already that curious glint in Gerry’s eyes. It always made him look so alive.

“I...well, I told you I remember everything, right? That includes all the people...I took into the hallways,” he whispered by the end, afraid his voice might break as he felt another sob rise in his throat, tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t see Gerry’s face very well through them, but he felt Gerry’s hand still in his hair.

There was a long moment of silence. Gerry had imagined this might be it, had been wondering about it since Michael told him he apparently remembered everything. But he hadn’t wanted to ask. He wasn’t even sure if he really wanted to know. Now he definitely couldn’t go back.

Michael blinked, and a tear fell from his eyes. Gerry brushed it away with his thumb. “I think I might want to hear that, actually.”

Michael shook his head, “I don’t want you to...I don’t want-” He took a steadying breath. “Your memories. I don’t want them to go…bad.”

Gerry smiled sadly, caressing Michael’s cheek with his thumb. “I don’t think it’d get worse. I...I knew, you know? Even before Jon decided to point it out.” He sighed. “I chose to ignore it. But...well, sometimes I couldn't. I’d wonder about what...kind of people they were. What you...what it did to them. How...it felt. Well, and after I couldn’t go back to ignoring it my imagination was awfully glad to supply me with all kinds of possible horrific scenarios.”

Michael’s face was the definition of shock. “I...I didn’t know, I- no wonder you pushed me away, that...I’m so sorry. I-”

“Shhh.” Gerry shook his head. Michael was starting to breathe hard and he didn’t want him to work himself up to a panic attack. “It’s fine. I didn’t tell you, I didn’t...I wanted to deal with it myself. It...well, it wasn’t your fault my brain is a bit too...creative.”

Michael shook his head, “No, it...I killed them.” He was barely audible, voice cracking at the end. He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore.

Gerry knit his brows. “You didn’t. It did.”

“Gerry, I  _ was _ it, I-”

“I know, Michael, but listen, you wouldn’t have killed them. It did. Because it had to, because it was just...what it was.” He sighed, feeling like he was having the same conversation he had had a billion times with himself. But this time, it was for Michael, and he wanted him to understand. This time it really mattered. “It even tried to stop. It didn’t work, Michael. You haven’t gone weak yet because you didn’t kill -  _ eat _ \- anyone. I know that for you the memories are all the same, are all...yours. But in this case you have to accept that that wasn’t  _ you _ .”

Michael was trying to blink up through the steady stream of tears. “That...that doesn’t make it any more  _ okay _ , Gerry.”

Gerry chuckled, humourless, “Yeah, you tell me. I tried to find any kind of loophole but...nothing changed the fact that it ate people and I...chose to ignore it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t...I didn’t-” Michael started sobbing and Gerry cursed himself, pulling him into a hug. He really didn’t want to make this about himself, and certainly didn’t want Michael to feel bad about possibly upsetting him. 

“It’s okay, Michael, I...I’m okay.” Was he? He ran his hand over Michael’s back. Michael was shaking. Or maybe his hand was. Probably both. “Look, I’m sorry. I...I was trying to make you understand that...you can talk to me, if you want, okay? I…” He sighed. “It won’t make anything worse for me. If anything...well, I guess it’ll just give me certainty, might calm my wild imagination.” 

He pressed a kiss to Michael’s hair. “But if you don’t want to I don’t mind either. I...Well, people always say it helps to talk about it.” He sounded unsure now, which wasn’t ideal. 

Gerry didn’t have much experience in talking making things better. For all he knew it could be a lie. He held Michael close as he cried, breathing calming down slowly as Gerry continued to brush his hand through his hair and down his back.

A long moment of silence passed before Michael stopped shaking. “I don’t think I can...talk...about it. N-Not now,” Michael mumbled into Gerry’s chest. 

“That’s okay. Like I said I...I don’t want to force you to tell me. I just...if...if you think talking might help...I’ll listen, okay?” He pressed a kiss to Michael’s hair.

Michael nodded, wrapping his arms around Gerry and pulling him closer. He didn’t know if talking would help. He didn’t know if he even could talk, could describe what he saw. Gerry always did his best to follow when Michael talked about his time in the Spiral, but it was quite clear that it was difficult to understand for somebody who had never been in there. Or well, never been in there for so long, hadn’t been  _ part of it _ . 

Michael had always been cautious when he brought Gerry into the hallways, the lingering memory of him on the floor in the Institute because of Michael’s presence too clear. So Gerry had never really experienced the extent of it. And Michael was glad about that. Even if it meant Gerry didn’t quite understand what he talked about, Michael was glad that at least that Gerry had been spared that. Gerry had been through more than enough. 

Gerry still tried his best with the understanding part, and Michael was glad to work with that. But not tonight. Tonight he was emotionally exhausted and tired to his bones. No, Michael needed to be in a different state to even try and tackle those memories. Now he just wanted to catch a couple more hours of sleep. Safely tucked into Gerry’s arms, it didn’t take him too long to fall asleep again.

  
  


*

  
  


Michael was finishing his tea, watching Gerry clean up the dishes from their breakfast. He still felt tired, despite having slept more than enough after calming down from the memories. They always left him with a different kind of exhaustion, one that refused to be shaken off no matter how hard Michael tried. 

He wondered if that was why Gerry always wanted to get out of the room when he woke up from a nightmare. To physically pretend like he could shake it off that way, put some space between himself and the horrors of the night. It didn’t sound implausible.

“Gerry?” He mumbled.

Gerry turned around to look at him, He looked tired, too, and Michael tried to push away the guilt at being responsible for that.

“Did you ever talk to anyone about your...nightmares?” Michael wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask about that, but last night had made him curious.

Gerry hesitated for a moment, unsure if his response would make his words from before sound meaningless. He deciding to be honest, though, “No. I...I never even considered it, to be honest. I kind of just...it’s a thing I have to deal with. By myself.”

“You don’t have to deal with anything by yourself anymore, Gerry.” Gerry looked surprised, and Michael felt his face heat rise up under that gaze. He looked at his tea instead, fingers following the rim of the mug nervously, “I-I mean...I just wanted to tell you. I’d...listen, if you want. You don’t have to. But you can talk to me. I’d like to help. You don’t need to deal with anything by yourself, if, if you don’t want to.” 

He was biting his lip nervously again, blush high in his cheeks, despite him being somewhat proud to have managed to speak clearly until the end. He didn’t dare to look up at Gerry. The silence just made him even more nervous.

Gerry had no idea what to say to that. There was a lot of things he  _ could _ say but nothing would come anywhere close to describe what he was feeling. It was the awe he felt at the realisation that he could be could be cared for, loved, even if it was by a monster. But it was also a much deeper wound, an ache Gerry barely noticed anymore, slowly mending, a suggestion of healing of something that had been part of his everyday life for as long as he could remember.

Gerry couldn’t describe it, but he didn’t want to just stare in silent amazement, either, so he closed the space between them and gently turned Michael’s face away from his mug and towards him. Michael’s eyes widened - probably at the tears that had escaped from Gerry’s eyes - but Gerry didn’t let him speak the apology he could clearly see written in Michael’s features, covering Michael’s mouth with his own in what Gerry hoped to be a kiss that managed to convey at least some of what he felt. 

At least the gratitude, the love, and maybe some of the mess inbetween and around Gerry couldn’t name but wanted Michael to know about anyways. When Michael started kissing back and his arms wrapped around Gerry’s neck, Gerry felt like he might be succeeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up feeling so sappy. You can tell.
> 
> (Also this is like the "Everybody can have a little breakdown. As a treat." Chapter apparently)


	16. Epilogue: It Was a Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which I finally find a home for an idea/scene I've been wanting to write for years.

Michael had been positively ecstatic about the prospect of going for a Leitner outside of London. They had stayed local, never really leaving the city, or at least not going very far out. It was frankly concerning how many of those books ended up in London, but Michael guessed it wasn’t too surprising. Many of the horrors seemed to have taken a liking to the city.

Michael had been trying to convince Gerry to go and check out the town the moment they had set foot into their hotel room. Gerry clearly did not share his excitement. He had settled on the bed, head against the headrest, as he watched Michael putting their stuff away. They didn’t unpack - would be inconvenient should they need to make a break for it - but Michael wasn’t going to just let their bags lie in the middle of the floor.

“It’ll be a nice walk, Gerry,” he tried again.

“First of all, it was already raining when we came inside.” Gerry sounded amused, “Second of all, Michael, this place isn’t that amazing, there are hundreds like it.”

Michael sighed and joined Gerry on the bed, putting his head in Gerry’s lap and looking up at him. “You say that because you’ve seen many places. I’ve never been far from London.”

“Which is still impressive.” Gerry chuckled, playing with one of Michael’s curls.

Michael blushed. “Well, I told you my life was boring.”

“I hope you’re getting enough excitement to make up for it now, I guess.” Gerry mumbled, tracing a faint scar on Michael’s temple. The Slaughter. Michael had been lucky he pulled away quickly enough or that might have been the end of him.

Michael shrugged, “I guess so. I’d still like to look around…Maybe I should just go on my own…,” He mused, looking to the window. It looked like it had stopped raining by now.

Gerry laughed. “No offence, but you have a shit sense of orientation. You’d probably manage to get lost, even in a place like this.”

Michael sighed. Gerry was right. Gerry could see his resolve fading, lips pulling into a disappointed frown.

“Don’t make such a face.” He traced Michael’s lips with his finger, considering. It was meant to be a surprise, but he didn’t want to leave Michael like this. “I was planning to take you out tonight. Can you wait until then? I’d like to catch up with sleep before.” It had been a long drive, and Gerry couldn’t sleep even while Michael drove or they’d definitely end up god knows where.

Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “Tonight? Where are we going?”

Gerry pet his cheek, grinning, “I’m not giving the whole surprise away.”

“You know I dislike surprises, Gerry…” Michael was pouting now and Gerry bit the inside of his cheek not to laugh. 

“I know, and it’s nothing ridiculously exciting. But...trust me, okay? I think you’ll enjoy it.” He smiled, caressing Michael’s cheek.

“You’re just making me even more curious!”

Now Gerry laughed, “Yeah, sorry. It’ll be fine.” He took Michael’s hand and pressed a kiss to its palm. “You should take a nap, too. You know there might not be much opportunity once we go for the Leitner this time…”

Michael was nodding absentmindedly, too focused on the feeling of Gerry’s lips on his hand, a somewhat distant memory at the back of his mind. Distant and also slightly distorted. He grinned and took Gerry’s other hand, brushing his lips against his wrist. 

Gerry sighed contently and Michael’s grin widened. “You never did tell me what your favourite spot is.”

Gerry took a moment to catch up, brows furrowed in confusion. His face lit up when he remembered what Michael was talking about. It felt like that had been a lifetime ago.

He looked down at him, a teasing grin on his lips, “Well, you don’t kiss me as frequently.” Michael blushed at that, as he always did when Gerry let him know that he was very much aware of the fact that Michael would like to kiss him more, but was too shy to ask for it. 

Time did seem to have made it slightly better, but Gerry still caught him looking at him longingly from the other side of the couch. Sometimes he decided to release Michael from his yearning stare by telling him to come closer, but sometimes Gerry waited to see how long he’d be sitting there, unmoving despite his eyes clearly showing that he very much wanted to move closer. The answer was very long. 

Gerry chuckled as Michael’s blush deepened under his gaze. He ran his fingers over his cheek. “And also, it feels different now. I’m afraid we’ll have to start anew.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow. “Does it? You reacted pretty much the same just now.” He ran his thumb over the spot on Gerry’s wrist he had just kissed. Gerry hummed.

“It feels good, but in a different way, okay?” Gerry was feeling his own face get warm. “And what about you? Still keeping it secret?”

Michael’s face pulled into a smug grin. “I like them all equally. For now.” 

Gerry froze for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “You little-” Michael didn’t let him finish, pulling him down and meeting him halfway for a kiss.

  
  


*

  
  


Gerry had been driving for what felt like an eternity and Michael, eager to guess where he was taking them, was starting to get frustrated. All he could make out in the dying light of the sun was a whole lot of nothing. Trees and fields. Sometimes fields with trees. 

“Gerry, where are we going?”

Gerry hadn’t stopped sounding amused ever since they left. “Patience. We’re nearly there.”

“But where is ‘there’? There’s nothing anywhere here…” Michael looked towards Gerry’s side, but it was the same there. Nothing.

Gerry chuckled, “That’s why we brought dinner.”

Michael sighed, an edge of frustration in his voice. “You’re making no sense.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it soon enough.” Gerry could nearly hear Michael pout beside him. He pet Michael’s knee. “I swear it’ll be nice.”

“Fine. But it’ll be dark soon…”

“I know. That’s the point.” Gerry's grin was wide.

Michael stared at him, “You’re starting to sound really creepy.”

Gerry chuckled, “Well, you know how to use a knife by now. I’m not worried about you.”

Michael shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. It always made him feel warm to hear that Gerry trusted his skills. It had taken a while, and a lot of close calls, but Michael was fairly confident he was less of a liability now. Hearing it from Gerry still felt good, though. 

  
  


*

  
  


They finally stopped and Michael helped Gerry with getting all the things they had stuffed into the car out and set up the picnic. When Michael had seen Gerry prepare food and drink and blankets, he had assumed something akin to a picnic would happen, but it was trying to figure out  _ where _ that had kept him on his toes. He didn’t think Gerry much of a picnic person, so it must be some special place. 

As Michael looked around after putting the stack of blankets they for some reason brought along next to the picnic blanket, where Gerry was already getting comfortable, he saw a whole lot of nothing. Grass. Some trees close by. It looked like there might be a forest or something. Michael wasn’t sure he knew why they were here.

Gerry pet the space next to him and Michael joined him on the blanket.

“Why are we here?,” Michael asked as Gerry passed him one of the sandwiches.

Gerry breathed in the fresh air. “Because it’s nice.”

Michael knew that wasn’t it, Gerry’s grin was still full of mirth, his voice thoroughly amused. Michael sighed and began to eat, trying to enjoy the surroundings. It  _ was _ nice, that wasn’t it. There was something calming about not constantly hearing the city in the background. The air smelled clean and the grass was a vibrant green, though the sky was darkening quickly. Soon, it looked more like a very dark green. Then grey.

Michael sighed, leaning back a little to look at the sky. It was fascinating to watch it darken slowly and quickly at the same time. As the sky turned darker, stars started to appear. A lot of them. Michael’s eyes grew wide as he finally understood.

“Oh.”

Gerry laughed, laying down on the blanket. “You finally caught up?”

Michael craned his neck as more and more stars came into view. “I...I didn’t think you were serious.”

“You’re going to break your neck. There’s a reason I brought the blanket.” He reached out to take Michael’s hand, pulling lightly.

Michael laid down next to him, not taking his eyes off the sky. It wasn’t even very dark yet but he was fairly sure he was seeing more stars than he ever had in London. He squeezed Gerry’s hand slightly. “Wow…”

“Do you understand what I meant with London being a shit place to stargaze?” Gerry looked at Michael, not wanting to miss the wonder on his face, the stars in his eyes.

Michael nodded, eyes wide and unblinking, trying to catch the new stars that were getting visible as everything got darker. Gerry smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before looking up himself. The starry sky was always a view to behold, even thought Gerry had seen it plenty. He was lucky that the sky cleared up earlier or this wouldn’t have worked out.

He felt Michael shiver next to him, the gentle breeze from earlier growing a little chilly as night fell. Gerry thankfully managed to reach the blankets without getting up and gave one to Michael. Michael took a second before he could tear away his eyes from the sky.

“Ah…Thank you.” He took the blanket, covering himself and Gerry with it. 

Gerry grinned. “You know I brought one for myself, right?”

“Well, this is warmer, though.” Michael smiled, shuffling closer and wrapping one arm around Gerry underneath the blanket. “Thank you for bringing me here.” He pressed a short kiss to Gerry’s lips before settling back onto the blanket, looking up. 

Gerry sighed and laced their fingers together, “Sorry it took so long. I had kind of...forgotten, to be honest. A lot else going on.” 

Michael chuckled, “That’s an understatement. But like I said, I didn’t...I never thought you meant it. I wasn’t expecting this.” His voice was filled with awe and Gerry chuckled.

“Yeah, I could tell. I was sure you’d guess. It was so obvious,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up.” Michael’s face was heating up, but he quickly got distracted, “Oh, is that the Milky Way?” He pointed with his free hand and Gerry looked and nodded.

“It is.”

“Wow…” He stared intently.

Gerry grinned, watching Michael’s probably uncomfortably wide eyes. “You know, you can blink. The sky won’t disappear.” 

Michael blushed, glancing at him. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You won’t. The sky’s clear. We got lucky.”

Michael looked back up. “You can probably see all kinds of constellations…”

Gerry nodded. “You can.”

“Do you know any?”

Gerry hesitated, “Well, I’m a little rusty, but I used to like reading about stars and such…”

Michael chuckled, “I don’t know any, so even if you say something wrong, I won’t be able to tell.” He looked at Gerry’s face, smile bashful. “Can you show me some?”

“Sure.” Gerry shifted so his head was closer to Michael’s, partly because this would make it easier to point out starts, partly because he wanted to feel Michael’s warmth. It was a win win situation, really.

Michael listened with rapt attention, trying to follow Gerry’s instructions and find the constellations he was describing. Gerry found out that he actually remembered quite a bit after stumbling a little in the beginning, and he grew more animated as his memories became clearer, came back. 

Quiet nights had often been the only break he would get during his childhood, the stars being the only positive aspect he could ever find in being stuck nowhere with Mary. While he no longer needed them to distract himself from her, he apparently still remembered them well. It was a comfort, even after all those years.

Michael sounded very impressed when he commented on something Gerry was explaining or showing, awed even, and Gerry felt warm despite the slight chill in the air. They were both smiling up at the stars, taking them in and enjoying the other’s company as the night went on and conversation died down into a comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have arrived at the end and, ah, I hope you enjoyed the experience a little bit :)  
> If you feel like it, feel welcome to scream at me on tumblr @hypnoshatesme
> 
> Thank you for reading & I hope you have a lovely day, or whatever it is for you!


End file.
